That morning the alarm rang at eight, but Jill pushed the button and stopped its squalling. Back asleep, the dream began again. Her body moved over the crumpled sheets like a rope twisting and tightening. When she awoke, her armpits were moist with sweat, and her hand was cupped over the hairy mound at the intersection of her legs. The dream had broken along a jagged edge, and her mouth had formed, half aloud, half in a whisper, the name of her brother, Christopher. Caught for one brief second between consciousness and sleep, she recognized the young boy in the dream as Chris.
Her fingers were straightened and tense; the joints ached with stiffness. Her right index fingertip pressed into the raw clitoral button. In her sleep, she had somehow brought her sheer, shortie nightgown over the crotch. A slight film of moisture covered the slit's outer folds; the pubic threads, too, were covered with hormonal sweat. Jill sniffed the salt-sour odor.
She looked up at the off-white ceiling and brought her lids down. Strangely, that the dream-lover was her brother was not all that painful.
Though her first emotion was concern, her impulse was to press deeper on the pinkish eruption of flesh covered by glossy, dark hairs. The third finger brushed lightly over the oiled labia and then shoved itself inside to the first joint. Jill was surprised at her own moisture.
She bent the fingers of her hand. The index poked lower and joined the other inside the warm box, which smelled of musk.
The thumb rolled over the clitoris and pushed harder. She pressed the little button and then released it Again she slid the thumb itself over the slight flesh and made the most of the friction.
Her vaginal muscles clamped involuntarily around the two fingers she had inserted inside of her. A fire licked the wet sides of the tightened cavern. She pulled the filament of the clitoris with the stub of her pinky.
Her left hand kneaded the muscles of her flat belly. A fingernail scratched the pale skin above the hairy triangle. The fingers moved down and twined the curls on the spindles of long, manicured nails.
Jill pushed up from the bed and dug her heels into the mattress. Her backbone and shoulders shoved against the pillow. The whole frame jolted forward to receive the digits deeper inside the swelling void. The small of her back ached with tension. A quiver passed through the hole, and the sides of the box spread apart for a fraction of a second before closing in over the two stroking fingers, now wet with Jill's inner grease. The vagina's hold on the twin bones was tighter than ever. Supine once more, Jill rubbed the plush globes of her ass into the foam mattress. The flesh joggled back and forth over her tailbone. She moved her right hand in time to a steady rhythm. The line of her body pumped up in a graceful arch.
Each time her right hand was filled with the swelling of her pudendum. The palm of her hand relaxed over the hairy lining while the fingers still pushed midway inside. Jill's palm felt the moisture that had gathered and adhered to the pubic bush with the bases of her fingers.
She brought her left hand to the tip of her right breast. The nipple awakened immediately to the touch and grew more rigid with each moment that the sweaty palm rested over the cap. The red-brown areola was sharply pointed; it rustled against the flesh of her hand as Jill turned the wrist back and forth over the slope of breast-flesh that led to the stone.
She grabbed the cone more tightly and squeezed it as though the areola might burst open and pour forth erotic nectar. Her small hand could not contain all of the breast inside it. The fingertips moved between the two mounds and touched the bony septum.
She held her body awkwardly under her. Her right side jutted upward and forced friction with her cupped hand. The hand moved now to her left breast, and the body relaxed. Only her groin moved with rhythm that grew more demanding.
Her fingers pressed the yielding, loose muscle of the hillock, and the tit became pebble-hard. She cupped the underside in her hand and bend her head forward, so that her chin almost touched the rim of the nipple. She tried to reach out with her tongue and lick it, but that proved too awkward, and she relaxed.
Her head came back to the soft pillow. She rubbed the base of her skull and her neck from side to side over the bed sheets. Jill's tongue was a sudden flash of bright pink as it stuck out between the softer folds of lip and wiped them with its tip.
She looked down toward the angle formed by her two, sprawled legs. The strands of pubic hair weaved a tuft that obstructed a clear view of the glistening labia. Her legs bent at the knees, and the muscles of her thighs shook slightly with the tension in her body that wound like a spring for the coming orgasm.
She withdrew the two fingers from the moist pot, and they slid over the clitoris. The nub grew custard-stiff under the prodding.
Her left hand moved to her side and her wrist meshed with the rising hipbone. The fingernails reached down to tear at the thigh in anticipation.
The first and fourth fingers of her right hand pressed into the division between crotch and leg, while the two middle fingers stroked the erectile tissue of the clit. Jill felt herself come apart as the walls dilated again, and she held herself still so they shut afterwards more tightly than before. Her left thumb stretched and curled back to press into her stomach. She pushed up on her heels and stretched her body straight out to contain the assault of climax.
She smelled herself, the oils and essence of her vagina. Though the daylight poured through the curtains, this scent of woman-flesh was a night smell, as was the hot, sweet lava that escaped from a man's penis. Her own fishy smell was the last thing she consciously noted before the orgasm passed through her body, one wave at a time.
The first jolt was like an electric shock. The bases of her fingers jammed the cartilage below the thin surface flesh at her groin. The fingers slipped inside the wet snatch, while the palm jammed the clitoris.
Jill's heels left the bed as a shiver made her body tense. The toes were stiff; they stretched to separate from each other during orgasm. Mattress springs squeaked below pumping buttocks. The cunt's fleshy coils tightened again and then relaxed while she was still coming.
Her groin rolled under her fingers and hand. As the orgasm poured from her, her manipulations were slower and more graceful, even feline. As though the pleasure was elastic, she pushed her crotch longingly upwards and savored the climax.
Her hand was still immersed in the damp and hairy cleft. Her breathing was a soft rasp. The forearm ached with the exercise she'd given it. Her eyes moved to her breasts, which still rose and fell with each breath, and she shut her eyes. The light in the room penetrated past the lids, and it colored the darkness.
The left arm moved back and crumpled a handful of the bed sheet in its palm. Fatigue was concentrated in the base of her skull.
Then, the dream. Again.
The stage was familiar. The same bedroom, her marriage bed. She viewed the scene as if she observed it from the bed, though it was she who entered the room first, with Christopher in tow behind her. His face was blurred, but she knew now for certain that it was him, her brother.
Now, as dreaming observer, she was not surprised when her perspective dissolved. The two moved onto the bed, and she was alternately in front of and over the bed, viewing from almost cinematic angles.
Then both were naked. Her hand reached for his cock. In the dream it was small and almost boyish, but it sprang instantly to life at the touch of her inner palm. The dream was so real that she could feel the scraping of soft, malleable flesh against skin-padded bone. The bag below the erection was full with enlarged testes, floating and bobbing at the slightest push of her forefinger as it shot between the two balls. .
Her fingers closed around the tool, and she felt the pulse of the blood inside it. She ran the side of her bony forefinger against the glans. She turned her wrist and led the flat of the fingertip along the thin slit. Christopher lay there, legs slightly apart; the scrotum sagged against the smooth, white sheet. She pulled the cock away from his belly and its accustomed angle. Her side rustled upon the sheet as she moved down. Her mouth opened, the lips parted and puckered. On her knees, she pushed one of her brother's legs to the side of the mattress. With her right hand she grabbed the sibling's prick and moved her lips to its fleshy head.
The mouth opened wider, and the bite of upper and lower front teeth sank into the taut foreskin below the dome. The edge of her tongue licked at the flatter side of the head and lashed down to the foreskin. The side of her hand rested in the furry pile of pubic hair; her thumb pushed forward into the meat at the slab's base. Forefinger and thumb pinched at the sides of the organ; she brought it sideways from its origin.
She filled her mouth with the penis since it was small. She could devour it to its base. Her lips were less than an inch from the tangle of hairy matting. She curled some of the strands on the spool of her index finger. The edges of her teeth grated over and under the cock. She let them move into the stiff meat itself, but she was careful not to confuse pleasure with pain. Under her face, Christopher's body was thin but muscular, and each fiber strained with tension. His arms were at his sides; fists clenched as though he were trying to contain laughter or strong emotion.
Her two hands ran up his body. His red-brown nipples were cold, frozen erect. Her thumb pushed down and felt the bones below. The boy's eyes were closed, but his tongue had pushed out between his lips and rested over the joined corners of his lips.
His sister's right hand moved down his left side. Jill folded her knuckles back and pressed them against his hipbone. With his buttocks he pushed his stomach up further, and his cock penetrated deeper in her mouth and threatened to gag her.
She took his limp hand. Supporting it in her own by clamping the wrist with her fingers, she placed the palm against her nipple. A hundred tiny budlets erected at mere touch. The sudden stiffness aroused the boy, and he began to move the hand over the tit. He sifted the areola between his fingers, and it grew harder.
Jill pushed her fingernails into his stomach just below the navel. She scratched the flesh and felt the sizzle of skin underneath. Her brother groaned. Jill's tongue moved more quickly up the spine of his instrument, and her teeth bumped into the compact flesh.
Her thumb pushed between the scrotum's two, small almonds, and she raised her head from the stern to tongue at his belly. This excited him more. She licked at the tiny, fair hairs that lined his midsection.
Tentatively, Christopher put the inside of his right hand against his sister's neck. He pushed down hard.
He jerked his cock against his sister's breast. She arched her spine and cupped her right breast in her hand. She pressed the cap over the head, melting the head as it pushed inside the soft mound.
Her legs spread. Her knees were planted at either side of his waist. The tuft of vaginal hair brushed his midriff. The box was close enough for Christopher to touch it without moving. For some reason he did not, and it remained for his sister to take the dick and apply it to the external folds of labial flesh. Uncertainly, Christopher poked a lone finger under his cock and stuck it inside the snatch. She was wet. She squeezed and the inner muscles seized hold of the inserted whang.
Christopher bent his arm at the elbow and pulled the finger halfway out. He plunged inside once more, and her vaginal muscles clamped in over the digit. He began to shove and pull, shove and pull, in an ascending rhythm that drove hard at his sister. Above him, she began to move her torso impatiently, as though dancing. Twin breasts danced on her diaphragm like perfect cones of molded gelatin. They shimmered; only the tits remaining implacably solid.
Impulsively, she grabbed his wrist and brought the finger to her lips. As she sniffed, the nostrils drew closer to the nasal septum. She put the fingertip to the center of her upper hp. Holding the finger at its base, she brought the finger inside her mouth. It grazed by the edges of her upper front teeth. She licked furiously at it.
Jill leaned forward slightly and put her two hands over the boy's breastbones. She dug her wrists into the flesh as though to massage him or to perform artificial respiration.
Christopher's breathing quickly took on the rhythm of her manipulations. She rose up off her haunches and began to dangle her crotch just above the head of Christopher's penis. She drew her right hand back from her brother's chest and grabbed the small weapon halfway down its length. She ran the prick's head up and down through the bush. She lingered at the cunt itself while she pushed her pelvis forward. She just missed the actual contact that tantalized him. Christopher's eyes were closed, and his upper teeth sank into his lower lips, which discolored at the pressure.
Her other hand came back to her own body. She wrapped both hands around her sides, the fingers at the borders of her stomach, the thumbs pointing to the small of her back.
Her thighs diverging, her groin sank on the erect member as it pointed up at the incision itself. The beaker pushed in easily past the lips. With a single movement, it was fully inside of her.
She moved down slowly. Her body bent first to one side and then to the other. The slight arrow dug with each alternate stroke into the same wall of the cunt, adding another rhythm to the coitus.
She began to swivel around the member, circling down the stem. She waited a second when he had penetrated as fully as he could and then rose up to repeat the process.
Tush," she said throatily to her brother who followed her order almost mechanically. He shoved up as she came down; she felt more full of his bulk as he anxiously thrust forward. "Good," she purred, drawing out the syllable of praise.
Convulsed with steady stroking, her hands snapped from her wrists. The walls of her quim spread as the cock moved deeper inside with each new stroke. Her shoulders hunched in rhythm with the forward motions of her brother's whang. She released them as he pulled out and hunched them again as he moved back inside.
The prick moved with one convulsive wave inside the tightening, wet walls. She pushed harder and faster, hoping to meet him at the orgasm she knew was close for him.
Christopher looked up to see her breasts bounce like snow-white hills. He reached forward and squeezed her left breast. The tit snuggled against his sweaty palm.
His hand moved away. His eyes closed again. His hipbone smashed against her thigh. Fire-hot come melted inside of her, and the explosion forced her orgasm. She reached under the arch of her throbbing cunt and grabbed the base of the cock as she rose off of it, anxious that she not fly off it. The climax started at her center and filled her whole body. It wrenched her with its force; she buckled as she would under the lashing of a whip.
Awake again, she smelled of hot sweat. Christopher's face, contorted with orgasm, was engraved before her, transparent over the contours of her bedroom. Her hand was at her crotch, even more damp than when she had fallen into her sleep.
CHAPTER TWO
Christopher was on the couch. He slipped out of his tan loafers, and his stockinged heels rotated over the surface of the coffee table. When she came to sit beside him on the couch, he looked up timidly at her as if his feet on the table might offend. "No, that's all right," she smiled as he tentatively lifted them.
She put her own feet beside his, four limbs in a row. She rubbed the side of her right foot against her left toe; the two layers of stocking ignited a sizzle of sound. She turned to him; his face was less than a foot away. He had slouched back, his cheeks even with her shoulders, and his arm extended behind her.
"How is Lisa?" she said, after exploring his plans for the summer between his high school graduation and his college freshman year.
"She's fine. She's leaving tomorrow. Going to Mexico City for two weeks with her parents and her brothers."
I'll bet you'll miss her."
"Sort of." He was noncommittal.
"Any problems, Chris?"
"Not really." He flexed his brow and extended a pointing finger to the pack of cigarettes. "Mind if I steal one?" His sister shook her head, withdrawing one for him and one for herself.
"Been smoking long?"
"Off and on."
"You were saying-about Lisa?" Jill tried not to sound too curious.
"Well, it's just that-she doesn't seem very serious, you know what I mean? About our relationship. It's like a game for her. I don't seem to be able to go very deep, getting through to her."
Jill smiled. She knew what it was like to be a shy, seventeen-year-old girl. It was murder, suppressing the feelings you had-usually sexual, although that was not all of it-because you thought that releasing them was, at the very least, bad form.
"You should have patience with her, Chris. She probably doesn't know what she wants, just now."
'Well, we've been going together over a year now."
He paused, and he was going to continue, but his sister interrupted him. "And she won't let you make love to her, right?"
Christopher smiled ruefully. "How'd you guess?"
"I'm twice your age, but twice seventeen isn't eighty."
Chris moved up on the couch, sitting straight. "Well, I like her, and she-likes me, and it shouldn't be so complicated." He pushed a long ash into the bowl of the ashtray. "If anyone tells you there's a sexual revolution going on, don't you believe it." Both smiled.
She could smell his breath: it was sweet, clean-smelling, but not the kind of freshness that comes from mouthwash. His body carried a slight, manly odor of recent sweat. The long sleeves of his striped broadcloth shirt were rolled a few times at the cuff.
She leaned too far toward him, and her breasts touched his chest. She could feel the shock in his body as her fullness moved against his muscle. There was panic in his eyes. Yet somehow, for reasons she did not know, she pressed her lips to his.
Her tongue parted the lips and pushed in between his front teeth before sliding onto his own. His tongue was broad, long, its texture almost abrasive on hers. At first he was still, unmoving, but then, as she repeated the initial act of collision, he poured it back into her mouth. His lips were full and sensuous, and Jill thought he kissed well. They were moist, too, bearing down on her lips, twisting against them as her tongue flicked his orifice. She could feel the hint of his soft beard as he began to lead. Jill's breath came in short gasps. How could she be so excited after so many years of making love? There was something almost paralyzingly erotic in this for her. She heard him breathe deeply and fast, and she knew this was special for Christopher as well. Her body was close to his, and he folded himself under her on the couch. Her nipples froze as they meshed with the bone work of his chest.
She lifted her head away so soon as the strokes became softer, slower. His penis made a tent of the trousers' crotch and she guessed the organ was of considerable bulk.
Exhaling, she could hear him inhale; he blew the air from his mouth as she gulped it in. "Oh, Chris." She almost squealed the words.
Under her, he raised his right hand and cupped it over her left shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jill. I really am." He held his breath, then added, T! didn't mean it to happen." His tone was plaintive. Jill asked herself if he really did believe that it was his fault, when she knew it to be hers.
She sat up straight on her knees, the patellas sinking into the seat cushions. She was brisk, almost amused, though the affected attitude was merely to disguise her nervousness. "Well, we got that over with. A little incest is perfectly natural; sometimes it comes out, sometimes it doesn't." She was silent, looking at him to test his reaction. She could not read his lack of expression. When she spoke again, she was soft and comforting. "Please, Chris, don't feel bad. It's the most normal thing in the world, it really is, and when you learn a little bit more about psychology and anthropology you'll know that. It's not a great sin. We're both perfectly normal.
"And it wasn't your fault I wanted it as much, at that moment, as you did."
As she looked into his eyes, she understood that she had been looking for the wrong emotion. After the first wave of guilt, desire had filled his eyes. He wanted her. And, whether she liked it or not, she knew she wanted him.
She put her hand on his shoulder. "If it's natural...." Christopher made no attempt to finish the sentence he had started. He sat up; his foot pushed up against the floor. Now the aggressor, he kissed his sister. His left hand wrapped around the back of her neck. They moved into each other. Her nipples were rigid; he felt her rub them against his hard breast He put his hand between their bodies and cupped the small hillock in his palm. His index finger traced the shape of the areola through the thin fabric of the summer dress, through the starched lace of her low-cut brassiere. His head drew back from hers, he watched her nostrils dilate with the deep intake of air as he touched her on the tender cap. Her eyelids were drawn shut. She looked younger than her age, Christopher thought; there were hardly any wrinkles but the delicate laugh lines around her eyes. Her cheeks were smooth, soft, the high bones.... The high bones were characteristic of the family, Christopher realized. They did look alike. His forefinger pushed the areola inside the breast
When her eyes opened, the green eyes were moist Her right hand filled with the bulk of his covered organ. Did she really feel the pulse, the pumping blood inside the meat? The nail of her index finger scratched the surface of the denim that camouflaged the glans, and she made out circumcised skin that stretched taut below it.
His left hand still open behind her neck, his right squeezed her waist at her left side, gathering the slight flab in his fingers. He brought her down on him again, and he relaxed his skull into the cushion in the corner of the sofa.
She turned her head from side to side as she lashed her tongue tip against his parted lips. The flunk's soft edge hit the enamel of the boy's front teeth. His erection, thick and stiff, stabbed her small, rounded belly. She moved up over it; it pressed against the labia, covered by her dress and then her rayon half panties.
Each of his hands grabbed its buttock. He squeezed the compact flesh with his fingers so hard that his nails bruised her. He pulled the short dress up and doubled the fabric. His hands moved under the panties waistband, and molded the fleshy globes with prodding finger bones, his strength reshaping them. The index finger went fractions of an inch inside the shaded crack and tantalized Jill with the hint of massage.
She brought her knees forward under her, and he peeled the panties below the curved rims of her buttocks. His palms turned upward and touched her pelvic bones. The fifth finger of each hand brushed the triangle of pubic weave. His left moved to squeeze the ball of her ass and his right rubbed flat on the ridge work of cunt folds. The tips of his forefinger and index finger teased the clitoral button. The labia grew slick with friction. Gingerly, Christopher inserted a single finger into the cleft. His sister's walls closed in wet and warm around the intruder. The sides of the soft chasm yielded easily to his pressure, and he buried the bone to its base knuckle.
Jill's head seemed to snap on her neck as she planted frantic bite-kisses on his neck. She took a small fold of skin at the side of the neck and sucked it in her mouth: her teeth gnawing the skin while the tongue licked the flesh, caught between her front teeth. Her breathing was wilder than Lisa's had ever been, he thought, but he was distracted as he felt her reach for his cock. Frustrated by the drape of denim, Jill pulled the zipper. The penis had already escaped from the cotton briefs. Her clenched fist took the tool inside. Her touch, un-like Lisa's, was anxious, hungry. His nostrils flared hungrily against the septum as he sucked in the smell of rich, vaginal juice.
Her little finger traced the incision at the head. She coated the purplish glans with premature semen. Her long, manicured nail tickled the stem at the flattened side of its base. Opening her hand, she took the bottom of the shaft and tried to tilt it from its natural bent, testing its firmness. The organ was like marble, pink marble, but it was warm. Her palm folded around the hose, and imprisoned it more tightly. Christopher clenched his teeth, breathing in hard as he memorized each change in pressure. The come welled up in the pit of his stomach; his whole body ached with its load.
Her fingers moved between folds of underwear and pushed up against the buried part of the long stalk. The cock twitched as she sifted the wrinkled scrotum between thumb and forefinger. The twin balls bobbed at the gentle pressure.
He pushed the filament of the clit from side to side, stretching it, alternately digging his fingers inside the' divide and pulling them out well-moistened. Emboldened, he pushed two straightened fingers inside the aperture and wiggled the fingertips against the pliant flesh. Her smell was musky, smoke that spoke of fire. She raised her head from his neck and put her lips against his. The pressure of her teeth below soft lips was a drilling of dull pain. She opened her mouth and their teeth jammed, surface against surface, for a moment before their tongues meshed. She withdrew and captured his lower hp between her upper and lower front teeth. She pulled it away and let it spring back to recover the white.
Impatient to perform the exercise of removing his sister's bra, Christopher's left hand crushed the contained breast inside the undergarment. The tit was hard and solid as it nestled, clothed and covered, in the center of his palm. It was Jul who reached behind her; she drew the dress zipper down its tract. Her pink-lace brassiere was bound by only two snaps, which she pulled to free her firm, round mountains.
Without grace, Christopher peeled the front of the dress from his sister's shoulders. The starchy pink lace of the bra fell below the red-brown nipple, stiff to a sharp point. He grasped the breast tightly inside his hand and opened the palm to run the knuckles over the grainy areola.
Jill brought her right leg up and pushed down at the small panties. She brought them below her knees, halfway down the calves. Her body turned on the axis of her waist and twisted against the flattened underside of the cock. Her forefinger twined a few black pubic curls, thin like silk; her fingernail scratched the tight skin hidden beneath the underbrush.
More dog-water formed at the slit. She smoothed it into a thin film over the head. She pressed a finger into the stalk and it ran down until it pushed in at the juice bag.
The intensity of his breathing frightened Jill. He would climax soon, and she wanted him inside of her. Pushing his right leg to one side with all her strength, her palm pressed at the inner thigh and her wrist clashed with hard, flat muscle. She created an open angle, out of which the pink cock arose. His right sole touched the floor as he arched his spine. Jill's legs were between his; she kneeled to take him inside of her, her dress crumpled on the thin line of her body.
The plow passed the slick furrows of her labia. She looked down at the organ as it disappeared inside of her. The penis was thick, an inch or more in diameter, and at least nine inches long. She came down slowly and turned her body from side to side, swiveling down on the instrument as if to savor each new bulky inch. His manhood pushed back the wet walls of her cavern and sliced the wound. Jill had to press down at his ribs to keep him driving up faster and more frantically.
Once he had driven the spike the length of her interior, it was Jill who found restraint difficult. She pushed up on her knees and uncovered all but the buried head. She folded her small body and consumed the fiber once more. She came up off the organ again, but this time she could not part with more than half the prick. She sloped down it, and when it was fully inside, she stuck her left hip outward and forced the stick's head against the vagina's left wall. Up again, she repeated the maneuver for the right side of the chasm.
Her strokes became faster and more blunt at the same time. She gave up the effort to control her brother's frantic pumping, and her hands flicked loosely but nervously from her wrists as they hung at her sides, palms facing to the couch below. With each penetration, the fingers would flex and straighten; they cramped with the succeeding withdrawal.
He had taken the lead, and he was now carrying her limp body to the precipice of the coming orgasm. Her eyes were shut, but the lids blinked open to reveal glazed and expressionless eyes. Her body pulsed with its own accelerating meter, but it was Christopher who was in command as he struck the plank straight forward and up, insistent with each stroke.
He did not push fast enough. Jill moaned, over and over, "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" the words escaping between gasps like an erotic mantra.
The walls of her hole dilated as the first hot spurt of come escaped his jumping head. He wrenched his lower back as he tried to push even further inside his sister. Her walls closed more tightly than ever around the bulk and opened again with the next wad of the sticky fluid.
The goo adhered to the sides of the inner chamber as the strokes subsided in intensity and were interrupted by longer and longer pauses after each advance. Slowly she writhed down the pole, draining the boy of his last dribbles of semen.
Tears had formed in the corners of her eyes; looking at her brother, she blinked, and one watery bead fell toward each cheekbone. "I love you, Christopher," she said tremulously, her voice half a whisper, half a sob.
CHAPTER THREE
Chris cleared his wet throat and breathed deeply through his nostrils. As the air filtered out again, he said, as softly as his sister but more firm, "I love you, too." More her lover now than brother, he put a comforting hand to her left breast, fingers dangling on the flat of her diaphragm now. Her areola had gone soft as a cherry's surface.
She balanced the fleshy mound by cupping its underside in her palm. She eased herself into the narrow frame of her brother's arms, which laced underneath her own; his fingers folded over the small of her back.
Inside her, the erection had deflated partially, and the soft member was embedded in a matrix of hormonal fluid and come, the latter seeping out through the open outer folds of the slit and staining the sofa beneath them. Noticing, Jill did not arouse herself to concern. It could wait.
It was Christopher who tore the coupling. He dug his butt into the couch and lifted his sister off the sagging dick. She was on her knees, and her buttocks pushed down on her heels.
Fondly she squeezed the limp bat between his legs. Its flesh glistened with his own essence and hers.
The burnt, brown rings toppled above each other, like the child's toy of a coiled wire that could be stretched and could fold down on itself.
Her left hand went to the feminine incision, and she tested herself for drainage of semen. She was stirred to action and rose. She turned toward her brother, still supine on the couch. "I'll be right back."
In the bathroom she took a fresh washcloth from the linen closet. She ran hot water over it and applied it to the vagina's outer folds. She did not want to douche; that would dry her for later if he would want to make love to her again. Her forefinger and index finger were wrapped inside the wet canopy of the textured cloth. She poked inside the hole and scraped the soft walls with it. The adhesive stuck to the white rag in clumps of liquid ivory. She ran the tap again and squeezed the cloth. She sniffed; she was not sure if it still smelled of come. She opened the hamper and threw it inside.
Inside the living room, her brother was tucking his sport shirt into his slacks. He looked up at her, and she detected more uncertainty than guilt in his demeanor.
His eyes went down, but he quickly turned them away when they spotted the crumpled panties by the sofa's edge. Jill tensed her body. She straightened her dress and smoothed it with both hands. Her right hand rested on her right hip as she leaned on that leg.
"Can you, again?" The phrase was elliptical, but Jill knew, from the sudden fire in her brother's eyes, that he understood the question, and that he could make love to her again. She raised her arm toward him, though he was half the room away. like metal under a magnet's spell, he moved toward her. She turned and walked up the stairs to the dining room, through the kitchen and past the hall bathroom from which she'd just come, to the bedroom she and David had previously shared, her own now.
His steps were soundless behind her. Already his fingers worked at the buttons he had just fastened. Fabric brushed against fabric as he pulled the shirt from its moorings inside the jeans.
Jill went immediately to the corner of the room to the right of the door. In front of the wall closet she stepped out of her wrinkled summer dress. She was naked. She went to the large bed and did not bother to peel down the thick-quilted spread. She rolled her body twice over and crushed her breasts in one half-turn and revealed her round, full buttocks in the next Her toes turned outward to the sides of the bed. The heels, separated by several inches, did not meet. The separation of her thighs and limbs formed a perfect overturned "V." Christopher looked into the generous threading of pubic curls over the raw, pink flesh. His sister's left arm touched the front of her left thigh; her right bent back so that her fingers pressed her right shoulder.
Carelessly he threw his shirt at the same chair his sister had placed her dress. He missed. Pulling out his belt from its loops, he let it curl like a defeated snake to the floor as he stepped out of the pants. He bent forward to push down his cotton undershorts. His right foot stepped on these as his left stepped out of the pants leg. Nude, he moved toward his sister's nakedness. Slowly, he fell to the bed. The two bodies were graceful parallels in quick motion.
His fiber was not hard yet, but had begun its ascent.
She squeezed at it and felt the blood race through the warm tube. Rubbing the bases of her finger knuckles against its length, the tips of the fingers moved to the sac below, and tapped rhythm between the bobbing testes.
He put most of his weight on his knees, but she felt his bulk and squirmed from under him, gesturing with her palm that he turn onto his back.
She made a ring of her thumb and forefinger. She brought the two together at the base of the stiffening muscle. The organ bent to her lips an inch away from the rod. She twisted and puckered them, licking first the upper and then the lower fold with the tip of her wet tongue.
Serpent-like, the tongue quivered over the thin gash at the penis head. The soft organ brushed flat over the dome and withdrew between her lips. Her brother's spine tensed to a coil under her. He held his breath and waited for the next delicate assault.
She bowed her head over the instrument so that he saw only the dark brown silk of her hair. Her tongue traced the line of the glans and her skull moved in a circle to the tube's other side. She licked the salty foreskin and tasted the dried semen that had remained. New dog-water forced out the slit in tiny drops. Impatiently her fingernails dug into the flat side of the cock; Christopher thrust his chest forward at the delicious pain.
Her mouth closed in over the head and her teeth grazed the end of the foreskin. She pushed the dong to her inner cheek with her hand and let the weapon spring back. She caught it on the edges of her drawn upper and lower front teeth; she held it there for a moment before pushing it to the other side of her mouth.
She opened her mouth as wide as possible and tried to stuff as much of the instrument inside her as would fit. Her tongue slid against one side as the other side rubbed the hard palate. The dome of the prick pushed at the beginning of her throat and her mouth opened to gag again and again, yet each time she suppressed the choking.
The teeth grated the taut flesh. She sunk the edges into the meat, but Christopher grunted harshly. His warning cry made her stop. Soothingly, comfortingly, she licked the bite-welts to ease the soreness.
Her mouth moved up the perpendicular. She lingered for a last puckered suck at the head, licked clean of the early semen. Her hands moving under his spread thighs, Christopher felt her warm bath envelop the scrotal sac. The tongue tip pushed up against the passive almonds while her thumb played insistently with the hidden root. She took the whole bag into her mouth and licked at the skin while she draped the edges of her teeth with her lips.
Her right palm was open. She ran it up and down the splinter while the knuckles pushed into the indentation of the glans. Christopher's groans became sudden grunts, and she knew it would not take much to drive him over the brink of orgasm. Would she take him inside her or let him come in her mouth? The cock expanded and she took it in. She sucked in; her lips covered her teeth and pressed into the shaft.
The seminal fluid almost drowned her in its warmth as he shot. Some of the white goo trailed down her inner cheeks and adhered to the molars or premolars, or else dribbled out of the corners of Jill's mouth. She tried to swallow all she could, but lava seemed to flow from the tip as from a volcano come to life.
His stomach and chest heaved with his intake of breath in the aftermath, and the air wheezed as he exhaled it. Her tongue was soggy with his cream as she brought her mouth off the prick.
She rested on her elbow, the womanly form perpendicular to the male. Her back rested on the fleshy, masculine thigh. His crotch smelled of salty sweat and sweet come. She gulped down the semen that remained at the edge of her throat. Cat-like, she cleaned the inner cheeks with her tongue. She licked her lips and extended the tongue tip to her chin, where a strand of the glue remained.
They did not move for minutes. Then Christopher's muscles began to tense, and his body stirred. His fingers pushed in at her stomach just above the navel. He slid on his side, his chin almost touching the beginning of his chest.
Jill knew the gift he offered, and she spread her legs again. Her box reeked of the hormonal film. She was hot, and sweat was cold on her neck and underarms. His warm tongue met the matting of thick hair at the base of the overturned triangle. Its tip traced the line of pure white skin, the boundary above the sexual hair. The soft arrow moved into the web itself and pointed downward until it lodged against the willing clit. The button grew and tensed under his prodding mouth. His lips pressed the clitoral ridge, and she felt him hold back the force of his teeth below the full lips.
His finger ran up and down the slick crevice itself. At last it poked in and flagged from side to side. The walls pushed back around it. He withdrew the stained bone and brought another with it for the second descent inside the fleshy organ. His tongue wagged against the clitoris in alternation with his lips, which sucked the filament inside his mouth. His fingers shoved harder with each thrust, shortening the space between advance and retreat. like twin diving rods they drew moisture from the inner cunt. The juice eased their way as they pushed forward.
He raised his head and kept his fingers motionless inside of her. He pushed himself up on the bed next to her. Her eyelids were drawn shut and her face was calm as though she were dreaming, but her rapid and heavy breathing gave the fie to appearance. With his lips closed together, he pushed her head to one side. He sought out her ear in the tangle of her coiffure. The tip of his tongue traced the spiral. His sister thrust her breasts forward, and Christopher drew his fingers from the well of her vagina to press the moist flats against the areolas. Pushing the caps inside the soft projection, the nipples became pebble-hard. The surface of the fingertips, oiled with the juices of her woman, slid over the erupting erectile tissue of the reddish peaks.
His mouth continued to suck at her ear, and Jill bucked her hips like an untamed horse. His knee forced itself against the hairy covering of her genitalia, and her legs closed in around his inserted limb. The hidden back of the ear pressed the dry upper palate while his moist tongue lashed the uneven surface. Covering the edges of his teeth to protect her, the tongue and palate came together to pull in at the ear's edge. His hand opened and snuggled between his own kneecap and the raw folds of her meat. He rolled the clitoris between the thumb and forefinger; Jill moaned as she pushed her open mouth into his neck and bit the loose skin. His fingers circled through the strands of hair and the beaver shone with vaginal lubrication.
Her fingers scratched at the flesh around his waist. She thrust the flat of her thumb into the mop of hair above the prick's origin. She pulled back the foreskin and came toward the instrument with her glossy mouth half open. But instead of kissing the extended phallus, she ran the slopes of her breasts over it, covering it as the hillocks moved. The tit scraped the gash in the dong's head, and its sharp edge was wet with the sticky fluid.
"Fuck me in the ass this time," she said breathily as she pushed the plank down from its upward angle. She turned over, and Christopher leaned forward to massage her full buttocks. He parted the two small mountains and stared hungrily at the crevice of darkness between. His tongue played with the roundness of her woman-flesh before it crawled between the two and tasted the crack's heat. His wrist pushed into the right and shoved it away from its twin. His hands reached down by his sides, to the backs of her tightening thighs, as his prick dug between the globes. They shivered as his penis rammed up against the sphincter. She arched her spine to let him shove forward.
He stroked the grog's lining with the surging poker until most of it was buried. He wrenched back and attacked her again. His thumbs hooked under her armpits and massaged the damp, bare flesh as he rushed to fill the hot, tight pit. The sphincter's interior puckered around his glans, and he writhed back and forth until his chest thumped against her back, and the hot sperm let go inside of her as his palm pressed the button at the root of her belly.
CHAPTER FOUR
After the concert, Christopher, somehow tense, drove the car into the Hollywood Hills. He followed the curling, residential streets to their accustomed parking place. Lisa was silent beside him, but he was too lost in his own thoughts to worry about that The radio's blare covered the silence and immersed them in electronic rhythm. Christopher could not help but pump slightly at the gas pedal
He turned off the car's engine by a flick of the ignition key. The car's radio went off with the motor, and they were left to confront each other. Christopher wrapped his right arm behind Lisa's head and pressed the fingers against the skull's base. His mouth drilled against her wet lips.
The tongue invaded the soft wet chamber. The orifice was narrow and her tongue thick. It tasted, he thought somehow sweet. Her lower teeth gnawed at his hp. His right fingers moved to scratch at the back of her head through the thick, blonde hair.
His tongue drew through the furrows of her lips as she moved her head to one side. His hand pushed away the thatch of pale hair that covered her perfectly formed ear. His tongue moved through the trail. Her breathing instantly erratic from even, heavy from soft. Nothing excited Lisa more than this wet caress. He grazed the terrain with the edges of his front teeth, then bit the lobe gently and kept it in the vise.
He released the flesh as he put his hand to her breast, imprisoned in a stiff brassiere. His tongue raced hard across the outer ear. Her breaths were almost guttural bursts. The fingers folded in around the starchy hillock under her blouse. The tit moved in his palm. His thumb worked her diaphragm while his mouth moved to her neck. He sucked in at the soft, thin skin and left the indentations of blushing color where the teeth had been.
Christopher reached under the jersey top. Both hands pulled the straps of the bra closer together so that the hooks came undone. The large pears rustled against the fabric. Moving from her side, he cupped the left breast in his hand. Her nipple was hard. He pushed it inside the breast itself with his thumb and rubbed it so hard that they could hear the friction in the silence of the car, even over their rapid breathing. Lisa moaned at the pressure, and in answer Christopher felt a squirt of blood move inside his prick.
He took Lisa's hand and led it to the stiff clump at his crotch. Unsteadily she moved her palm over it, the fingers only slightly bent and hesitant all the while. Slowly they crept away when she felt her obligation completed.
His left hand moved first under her top and then under the sagging bra. He had only to fondle the nipple for a few seconds before it sprang to life. Both of his hands pushed the jersey toward Lisa's neck above the slope of her breasts, and he put his mouth to the diamond-cap of her left hillock. He whipped the pudding texture of the nipple with the edge of his tongue. The lower teeth jammed hungrily into the underside of the girl's breast.
As his mouth opened and closed around the generous mound, his hand probed under the hem of her short dress. An advancing index finger poked at the labial folds hidden beneath the cotton panties and then beneath the cunt hair. He flicked the folds back and forth from the incision itself. His forefinger moved under the flap that covered the pubic area and buzzed the clitoris. He bent the finger at its second joint and moved it inside the hole.
His left hand wrenched at the waistband of the underpants. The right hand moved down and pulled the fabric against her flat stomach. Lisa arched her spine and raised her buttocks from the seat of the car. The heels of her shoes dug into the car's rug. Christopher pulled the now-limp garment past her knees. His hand was free to explore her privates.
The index finger pushed inside the twat. His bent forefinger pressed against and into the slight eruption of the clit. The rhythm of the two fingers came closer together; in a few strokes they were twin prongs of a single assault.
Once deep inside, the index finger moved against one wall, then pushed at the box's other side. He moved his hand outside of her. The finger was coated with her sweet film. He pushed back. Lisa sighed in time to his fingering, and his hand punched at her stomach as she rose to his thrust. She imitated the pace of the manipulations with her hips, pumping off the seat of the car.
Christopher kissed the girl lightly and ran his tongue, serpent-like, inside of her mouth. His left hand pulled at the zipper of his trousers. His weapon had pushed itself from the flaps of his briefs, and the muscle poked out erect. Lisa gripped the flesh more anxiously now. She squeezed it hard enough to obstruct the flow of blood inside.
His arm grew tired and Christopher jammed the thin bone up inside the canal. His force was greater, rougher, but Lisa's anxiety welcomed the new violence.
He turned his hand so that it was the thumb that whipped the clitoris. The whole arm came down, the single finger as its warning. The thumb scraped over the pink surface of hair-lined skin.
Christopher withdrew his hand from the damp chamber. He put his moist right hand to Lisa's left breast. The tit had melted, but now he ran his forefinger's nail over its perfect ebony. His lips puckered and pulled at the skin of her neck, and he sucked at the tissue. His left hand moved through Lisa's hair and scratched at her sweat-rinsed scalp.
She rolled the foreskin away from the glans and brought it past the purple ridge. She wrenched the layer of covering fast up and down the pole. His phallus still in Lisa's hand, Christopher moved his hips and aimed the organ at the girl's moist vagina. But Lisa bucked and grabbed at his upper arms. She started to push him away. Christopher was strong enough to resist, but he knew well enough the patterns of advance and retreat. Letting himself be half off, he whispered into Lisa's ear. "Let me just hold it against you, there," he said, and he listened to her heavy breathing. Her eyes were shut, and she bit her hp.
Taking her silence for consent, Christopher positioned the head of the organ over the crack. His own gash rustled over the tangle of hair. He brought his hips back and then shoved forward lightly, careful not to push inside the furrows of the outer lips.
Lisa took the stem midway and held it stationary, but the pressure just served to excite Christopher. He pushed forward and this time entered just past the lips, stretching the aperture and forcing a stifled scream from Lisa.
Once inside, the head alone covered, Lisa did not object. Christopher did not stir, trying to hold the position, and afraid to break the hymenal membrane.
Christopher looked up through the car's front window, now fogged with their hot breath. He reached down and prodded Lisa's button with his stubby forefinger. She rolled her stomach under him and groaned. "Please," he pleaded, "please." Lisa opened her eyes, clouded with hunger. A pause, and then she turned her head from side to side.
The pain of holding back passed through Christopher's stomach like the stabbing of a knife. Gingerly, he pulled the cock from Lisa's sopping hole.
As he left the crevice, his penis brushed against the thick blonde-brown hair, and he pushed the meat into her stomach. The sweet release came in bursts of white fluid, spraying on the surface of the teenager's small, white belly. His fingers still played, now even more eagerly, with Lisa's clit, and he felt her writhe underneath his weight as she shoved her crotch closer into and inside his hand. The underside of his prong continued to slide against her belly and covered it with semen. His hand pressured unsparingly at her parts and drove her to the climax that came just as his own subsided. The motion of her stomach as it pumped the climactic rhythm forced the last few drops of pearl-juice from the cock.
In the aftermath, Lisa began to cry. Christopher cupped her head in his palm and brought her lips to his. He was soft, and his tongue moved over her full lips. He kissed her gently on the cheeks. "Don't cry, Liza." Buzzing her neck, he added, "Please."
She smiled at him, through the puddle of tears. Tm sorry, you know how I just get silly, sometimes." She paused, inhaling deeply. "You know I want to. It's just that I-I can't."
"I understand," Christopher said, but he could not conceal the disappointment in his voice. He kissed her again, and wrapped his tongue around hers. His penis, covered in its own white soot, began to rise. He grabbed her ass-cheeks in his hands and squeezed the flesh tightly.
He dragged the half-solid cock over the surface of the beaver. The friction forced it to hardness. He opened his mouth wide and tried to stuff all of Lisa's right breast inside. The tit grew instantly hard and stirred at the back of his mouth. The cone's tip pointed to the throat.
Christopher reached to her knees and pulled the panties back toward her waist Knowing what was expected of her, Lisa raised her buttocks while Christopher replaced the undergarment and covered her genitals.
She relaxed, and let her hips press down onto the seat cushion. Stiff, Christopher aimed the cock at the hidden vagina. He rubbed the prick over the entrance, and the clitoris inflated. At first Lisa was passive, but as the moments wore on she grabbed the flesh at the side of the boy's waist and squeezed tightly, urging him on.
His hands cupped under her thighs and spread her legs like the twin forks of a wishbone. Christopher moved his hips from side to side and hit the mesh of hair and external flesh like a paintbrush. Lisa dug her nails into the small of his back. She pumped her own stomach toward his prick and scraped the cotton of the panties against the head, from which a few drops of dog-water had escaped.
His fingers curled under her thighs and pressed into the insides of the hollows. His knuckles brushed the curly pubic hairs.
"Oh... oh... oh...." Was she coming so quickly? Her soft moan ended with a gasp. She shoved her twat against the head and grabbed it just under the glans, her hand squeezing hard. Her nails cut into the purple line. He felt his penis fill with the glue, and he let himself jam the cock at the soft patch of flesh below the cotton. He was frantic, violent, delivering himself of the orgasm as she smashed her groin into his member. The juice spurted from the head, but he only ran on to drive the spike to its obstructed destination.
Lisa's mouth opened so wide that he saw the beginning of her throat. She held her breath as she sometimes did when coming, and tried to stabilize her body as the pulse of orgasm filled her. Her eyes closed, but through the closed lids Christopher could read the rapture of completion.
CHAPTER FIVE
When he was with Lisa, Chris tended to think of Jill; with Jill, his mind was frequently on Lisa. It was only when he was in bed with his sister that she could drive thoughts of any other women out of his head.
He pushed the doorbell. The summer day seemed relatively clear, for Los Angeles. Of course, this part of the valley was always relatively clear. He heard footsteps coming closer to the other side of the door, but his broad smile was spent on Jill's housekeeper, Wendy. She was wearing oh-so-tight hot pants that seemed to betray the contour of her external genitalia. The absence of a bra conspired with the shorts to eliminate even the possibility of disguising her shape.
She let him in, standing still while she held the door. She pushed the door back to the threshold, and it snapped shut. Wendy seemed to be watching him. Before he had started this affair with his sister, he had fantasized about the girl, and sometimes it had seemed to him that she was "coming on" to him, but usually he dismissed the idea. She was, after all, several years older, at a time in a girl's life when a difference in age like that really counted.
"Your sister wouldn't even let me help her make you lunch. She said she wanted to do it by herself."
Christopher smiled; of course, the affectionate side of Jill's nature was nothing new-he had known it in her since she baby-sat for him as an infant.
He was glad now that he hadn't been successful in looking for a full-time summer job; it gave them more time together. Just as he wondered whether Wendy was to be there all afternoon, the girl moved to the door and pulled it open. Turning, she smiled. "Well, have fun. I've got classes till four."
"Oh," Chris tried to say as brightly as he could, but though he found the girl attractive, his mind was already on his sister-on the smell of her light sweat, on the way her hair fell down on her naked shoulders, on the way she would jam her breasts into his flat chest until the nipples, his and hers, scraped each other into erection.
He wandered into the kitchen while his ears registered the snap of the door on Wendy's exit. Jill was standing over a kettle. She was wearing a short white-and-black cotton print with a low neckline, and she'd dispensed with the formality of a bra. Her forehead was coated with a thin layer of perspiration, but that only made her look sexier-sultry, he said to himself, in the Los Angeles heat
Her head moved slowly, as if she were conscious of the impression she was making, to face him, but her lips turned to a wide smile. "Minestrone. Homemade."
"Ready?" He paused, suppressing a grin and then losing the effort and chuckling. "I mean the soup."
"Yes. It can wait, though, if you'd like."
Rather theatrically he looked down at his crotch, and Jill's gaze followed his lead. She laid the wooden spoon with which she stirred the soup down on the surface of the stove, carefully turned the heat down to simmer, and then walked toward Chris. He had been stiff all the way over, but now the numbness in the organ was broken by the throbbing of the blood inside it, pushing the veins out on the pink wrapping.
Jill opened her hand wide and shoved the palm against the shaft, forcing it to his belly. A spurt of the jizm oozed out onto the inside of his jockey shorts. She rolled the insides of her thumb and index finger so deftly that the prick bounced out of the briefs and pushed at the reverse side of his zipper. She rubbed the head, still covered with the corduroy slacks, before pulling the zipper down and letting the cock out for air.
She kneeled on the linoleum. The penis pointed straight up, so that from under it she could only blow her breath at the usually invisible side of the rod. Her forefinger's tip smoothly stroked the column down the center until it was trapped playfully inside the scrotum where the almonds inside jumped at the least flicking. She pushed her nail into the stalk buried under the sac, and Christopher, who had all morning been fantasizing her touch, groaned with delicious pleasure. It was the kind of pleasure that made him wish only that she would jab harder or squeeze him mercilessly, so the sensation would be all the more intense.
Her four longer fingers forced the prong down from its rising angle and she stuck her tongue from her mouth. The taste of the organ was salty; the skin had been sweating in its cotton binding. Her fingers again tightened and she used her grip to pull the foreskin away from the glans while she swept from side to side with her thick, sensitive tongue.
The goo was bubbling hot in his lower parts and even at the base of his spine he felt the welling tension. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he was lost in a whirl of darkness. The vortex of his senses was hinged to her tongue, and the sensing mind was precarious as Jill moved her tongue so swiftly on the downside of the phallus.
Not knowing why, he had forced his buttocks together as if bracing himself for the shock of her soft, liquid mouth on his cock. But it made it all the easier for Jill to pull at his belt, unbuckle it, and slip his cords down his clenched hips. She grabbed the prick just under its head and brought it to her pursed red lips. She blew on it lightly, but the air she exhaled was hot and seemed to envelop him in a jungle musk His warm thirst was quenched, though, in the next moment, as the lips slid down the solid inches of the tube, moist warnings for the perfect wetness, the soaking, that would follow. The pressure of her teeth were light and at first her tongue did not move under the heavy dork But when four inches were injected into her, she grated her teeth on his prick-flesh, signaling him to stop for the moment, and her tongue swirled luxuriously around the erection. Her hands played with the outsides of his upper legs, covered with short, blond hairs, and she shivered when the fingertips moved inside to roll over his more sparsely-haired thighs. He tightened those muscles as if to protect himself, and he thrust his pelvis forward, burying an inch more of himself into his sister's orifice. Her fingertips gripped the muscles, and her thumbs curled up to play with his balls. He breathed in deeply and his throat was so dry the air felt raw on it
His sister was mumbling something he couldn't make out. She was humming, and her breasts were soft on his stiffened legs. He clutched her shoulders with his hands, leaning forward but afraid to move too violently less he slip from the warmth of her tongue and lips. Now the words were audible as she shoved the side of the shaft against her cheek, and she touched her tongue to her mouth's roof. "I love to suck you.... Oh, it's so good.... Your cock is so nice, so big...
It felt big, even to Chris; it felt as though it was bursting with blood and come. Now when she pulled the foreskin back, her tongue licked the glans clean of any semen that had leaked from the slit. She threw her head back and the hair sprayed about her neck and shoulders. When she put her lips to the dork again, a second later, it was to lick it up and down like a lollipop. The pressure was lighter, almost ticklish, but it turned him on even more wildly; it was like the kiss of a butterfly where he was most sensitive.
He wanted all of her, her teeth and her tongue and the insides of her cheeks, but she was teasing him with the soothing tongue tip. His fingertips bleached impressions of themselves into the back of Jill's neck. His knees bent, and the first time his dome pressed against her lips and, beyond them, her teeth. She turned her head from side to side so the friction of the enamel against his slit could excite him. A droplet of the cream floated out and stuck to her teeth. Breathing in deeply she spread her moist lips. Planting her thumbs next to each other on the base of the cock beneath the scrotal skin she slid down the rod and took three-quarters of it into her mouth. Her fingers played with his pubic hair while she puckered her lips round the organ's circumference and tried to suck the white steam from its root, from his belly.
She made a fist at the dongs origin and bent it this way and that inside her mouth, running the tongue along its side while it touched the edges of her teeth which she teasingly rubbed on it. She smashed the side of her hand into the juice-bag, separating the testicles like billiard balls.
Christopher, his legs spread apart so wide he could barely stand, leaned over so that his mouth touched his sister's scalp. He was sweating, and a thin rivulet of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. Lazily his tongue scraped her own moist skin through her hair. His nails scratched the base of her neck as he tried to drive himself even deeper into her wet cove. Low whimpering sounds surprised him as they came from his throat-they were like messages from a ventriloquist within. His pelvis and stomach were glutted with a low, hot ache as the come waited to zoom out.
For Jill it was becoming a struggle of power; she wanted to make him come and her ego needed to make him come. The cock in her mouth was like an animal she could and would and must tame.
The dog-water already coated the edge of her throat like thick cream, soothing her as she waited for the wet explosion. She thrust her thumb in the middle of the shaft just before it disappeared inside the scrotum. He was jamming himself against the roof of her mouth. He drew his hands back to his own body. The tops of his palms pressed his hip bones and his wrists curved to touch the start of his ass. His fingers moved in toward his belly and pressed at it as if to send the semen shooting out through the erection that moment.
He'd been leaning forward over Jill, his body like a question mark. But now he raised himself off his sister while still keeping the dong in her mouth, under the press of her tongue, and he arched his spine. The prick brushed the top of her mouth, and her teeth cut into the shaft near where the curly hairs marked the base.
All of a sudden the starchy fluid burst from the slash in his penis and covered the entrance to her throat. She swallowed the first load, but the next wad seemed to clot the space at the end of her mouth and she breathed in furiously through her nose to rest-and then more of the gum pushed the previous load down the tunnel. Her chest was hot with the scalding juice, filling her like heavy broth. She yanked on the wrinkled scrotal skin as if to stop the tide, but he only spewed the faster, or so it seemed. She gulped, and her hand loosed its grip on the bag and slipped between his spread thighs to bite with her fingers into his tightly muscled ass.
When he was through, Christopher was surprised by the almost death-like stillness of the kitchen, the slight ringing in his inner ears in the aftermath of pleasure.
Jill let her body fold to the floor in exhaustion. Her dress had rumpled under her, but Christopher could see a flash of naked thigh nonetheless, and the rim of her pink panties. Christopher straightened, his prick wilting and soon hanging limply from his fly. His sister raised her hand to wipe the skin above her eyebrows clean of perspiration.
"Thank you, Sis," he said rather awkwardly, and Jill smiled at him, holding back a small laugh and nodding rather solemnly. "You're welcome, Christopher."
She paused and took a deep breath. "Would you like lunch, now?"
He smiled ingenuously; yes, he was hungry. She rose, covering her upper leg with the swirl of her skirt, and consulted the kettle. She poured soup into two bowls and they sat down to the table with the sandwiches she had already prepared.
They were silent through much of the meal, but as Christopher took the last bite of his ham and cheese on rye, Jill curled her tongue out to shine her hipper hp and asked him "if you think you're rested enough."
Christopher's sophistication was not such that he could answer her question without the trace of a snicker. In fact, however, Jill thought she noticed his eyes widen, and in the next moment shift concentration to her breasts.
Though he had a napkin available to him he brushed his mouth clean with the back of his tanned hand and he rose expectantly. Across the table, his sister took his hand by the wrist and squeezed it, then let go and ran, half laughing, from the kitchen, across the house toward the bedroom, her brother laughing in mock pursuit.
She was just beyond the threshold when he grabbed her from behind. Jill felt the brutish pleasure of his cock sticking into the plush of her buttocks, even through the thin cotton of the garment. Chris pressed his mouth to her bare shoulder and felt the heat and moisture there, tasted the salt. Stepping back, he turned her around in his strong grip to face him. His chest rubbed against her boobs which hung loose, their tits hard. His right hand pushed into her midriff through the blouse, then went lower and slipped under the clothing. The curved undersides of her melons were warm and perfect.
She shook her head teasingly. "No, you can't touch me naked, only through my clothes."
Her expression seemed serious, and Christopher's first reaction was one of hurt.
"Why?"
"Oh, silly-I was just playing, teasing you." Her brother smiled his relief.
Still he thought it was a silly thing to tease him with-it reminded him all too much of the early stages of his sexual relationship with Lisa. He would grab her and she would object. Finally she would succumb to the caresses, but when he would begin to undress her, she would hold him off. Each step was a battle and now it seemed to him that any holding back, any hesitation, was unnecessary. He was unaware of how "charming" his sister found his youth.
He stood two feet from her so that his arm was still bent at the elbow when he reached for her breast and touched the center of her nipple with his thumb. It grew more distinctly erect, and even the color seemed more intense moment by moment under the thin, pale cotton. Jill closed her eyes and bit into her lower lip with her upper front teeth; the lip appeared to blush white.
His hand moved to the other breast and played the same magic with the matching areola. Lazily the fingers swept down between the breasts and settled between Jill's legs through the skirt. Christopher wondered if he were imagining it or whether it really was moisture he felt even though his fingers were separated by dress and panties from her pud. He shoved deeper, testing the bed of hair that protected the pink slash, and his sisters legs spread under her, scissoring as she stood.
His other hand grabbed her right breast and squeezed it, and the peak stood out even clearer. The hand that had pressed her mound made an arc around her body and clutched her firm butt so that Jill squealed with delight. She brought her mouth to his ear and licked the lobe tantalizingly, making the blood surge from deep inside the base of his belly.
"O.K., " he said almost breathlessly. "You've gotta let me if you're going to do stuff like that."
His sister smiled. She liked turning him on. She stepped back and started to unbutton her blouse. The breasts poured out, but they were firm and did not sag. The tits were still sharp and stiff. She bent forward and the nipples pointed to the floor as she unbuttoned her skirt at the side. Her panties were too thick to see the cunt hair distinctly at the crotch, but not too thick that the texture of the strands in the tuft was not evident. The hair was dense around the snatch.
She waited, almost posing for him; it is true his eyes were hungry for her nudity. "What about your pants?" he asked greedily. "Them, too?" she asked in return, and he nodded, satisfied that she would obey him.
Her hands opened at her hips and she seemed to bend them out as if the fingers wished to touch the backs of her wrists. With the top of the palm pressed to the garment at her sides she rolled the waistband down until the pink covered just the hairy twat, and then she uncovered even the hole.
While his eyes were fixed on her pussy she stared with equal interest at his crotch and the signs of his desire were more obvious. She was experimenting with the feeling of passivity-"What do I do now?" she asked next-but she was tempted to go over and pull the trunk out of his pants and lead him by it back to the bed where she would devour it with the vacuum between her legs. But instead she waited for the answer to her question; she would in any case get her reward-possession of the prick-fairly soon, if the way Chris moved his mouth just now, the way he always moved it when he was most hot, was any clue. It seemed twisted at the left corner and lazy and almost unmuscled at the other.
"Lie down on the bed." She sat herself down and then leaned back, not bothering to sprawl her legs open and reveal the vagina. "Not like that. Spread your legs so that I can see you." His voice was without emotion, but he was breathing heavily.
She followed his instructions. David had once brought home a stag movie for her to watch and the movie had begun with a woman coming into what looked like a motel room and undressing, then lying-finally writhing-on the bed. Jill enjoyed for a moment the fantasy that Chris was the director of some such film and she the principal player. like the girl in the skin flick had done she pressed her fingers into her stomach just inside the rising of her pelvis bones. She arched her spine and showed off her boobs and even lightly thrust her ass off the bed so that her brother could get an even clearer view of her pussy.
"Yeah," he said softly as he watched her and she saw that he was already undressing himself. He slipped his shirt over his head and uncinched his belt. He bent over to loosen his shoelaces and then climbed from his pants. His cock already stood out from the folds of cotton in the underwear and he had to hold it back toward his stomach with one hand while with the other he pushed the briefs below toward his thighs and then let them fall to his ankles.
In the daylight of the room he threw his body on top of her own and his cock pushed into the mattress between her extended legs. Instantly she brought them close together. His mouth was open and his tongue played with hers. She reached down and found his cock. Expertly she pulled the skin up and down and worked against the rhythm of blood her fingertips detected.
After the first dozen swift strokes she brought the flat of her forefinger down on the slit to see what reward her efforts had brought her and the gash was covered with white foam. When she grabbed the prick again she was slower and more luxurious with her pumping because she did not want him to climax too soon-and when he did, she wanted the sweet juice inside her.
Following her lead, Chris had put his hand down on her sex organ. The outer flaps of the beaver were hot though not as yet moist. He separated his first and second fingers, and the tip of each moved up the opposite side of the vagina, stroking gently the pinkish-purple labia and threading through the tangle of hair. Her sweet, womanly aroma grew stronger as he prodded the puffy lips. One particular blister swelled as he rolled it back into the nest of hair. His second and third fingers rubbed the gash itself from side to side and soon the hole was greased. The two fingers then plowed inside and her walls pressed at them as though the vagina was a trap. He straightened the fingers and shoved them as far up his sister as he could. Her ass left the bed again and she let him stuff her with the digits. He flicked his wrist and made the opening go wider. She was juicy with the flow of her cunt-water and the fire in her crotch was already licking at her belly. Her hand was full of his cock and the veins inflated with new blood. His balls were heavy and the air whistled through his teeth when she played with them. She put her mouth to his neck and licked the sweaty skin. He stretched himself and pushed the head of his prick to her twat-folds.
"Not yet," she said, her voice a sigh, "not quite yet." If he were rushing her by speeding up the rhythm of his fingers over her erecting clitoris, she did not feel rushed. But the thin lubrication already soaked the inside of her wound. She brought her soles up against the bedspread as she folded her legs. "Eat me," she commanded. "Just a little." For a moment her brother seemed to hesitate, but then he pushed himself down the bed on his palms and drilled his mouth to the outside of the sex tunnel.
She squirmed as his lips rammed closer to the pussy by pressure of his teeth. Her skull was lazy on her neck and she rubbed its base into the pillow, purring as Chris lick-fucked her. His lips smeared against the folds of the organ and she felt the cold enamel against her clit. The little jewel was rubbed raw by its edges but she delighted in the mingled pain and pleasure.
His fingers moved between his mouth and the beaver, massaging the very area he had covered with his saliva. He opened the hole to his tongue and the tip slipped in to taste either side of the internal muscle.
"Now... now!" she insisted, and her brother was more than ready. He lay on top of her so that it was hard for her to breathe; still, she liked him on her, wanted his weight to crush her down. His cock was just under her snatch, and she grabbed it but could not fit it into the hole because it pointed straight at the mattress under her. He lifted his body up on one palm and then jutted forward, the curved prickhead against the moist aperture. Teasing herself with the feel of his stiffness she took the staff and rubbed the head back and forth over the cavity; the friction of her pubic hair excited him and he left a thin streak of dog-water on the tuft.
Now she let him inside her. He pushed in, her hand still wrapped around the tube; she let go and he drove the rest into the vagina by main force. The soggy walls of her organ hugged the instrument and the satin stroked his exposed glans. He kissed her and this time his kiss was rough. His teeth cut into her lips hard enough to cause tears to come to her eyes. He was like an animal as he made love to her. He stuffed her with his cock and she was grateful for each forward thrust, resentful each time he pulled back and almost left the pussy.
As though he were dancing, he stuck his hip out and smashed the cock into one side of the cunt, opening the hole wider from the outside. He pushed his forefinger beside the shaft of his erection and the two joints plunged forward at the same time. He withdrew his finger, wet with cunt dew, and he soothed the clit, sore with hunger for him.
His other hand was forcing her jug back to her chest, and her nipple, sharp and tense, was scratching his perspiring palm. She was shaking her head and breathing heavily through her mouth; occasionally her soft, pink tongue would slip out to moisten the corners of her parted lips. He squeezed the breast tighter and pushed his stomach up off his sister. Moving a foot down the bed, he took her breast in his mouth and sucked on the tit while Jill groaned her pleasure.
"I want you, Chris. I want you so bad," she whispered, stroking the back of his neck with her fingertips. Her buttocks were beating at the mattress time.
Chris slipped inside her; she was moist enough now so that he could aim himself at the pussy and fill her in a single stroke. He grabbed her under the ass, the undersides of her thighs, and held her close to him. Her legs had been drawn near and he barely lifted her weight from the bed as he planted his cock inside. He was conscious, as she was, that he was doing all the work. She could be passive; the motion in her body were the involuntary tremors of near orgasm that filled her-each one a false alarm as he held off from shooting his gism into her womb.
She wished he would. Her mind was blank but for the image of a river of surging come that would drown her from the inside out. His fingers tightened as they held her buttocks at the rims and the wrists pushed her lean flesh back to her bones. Now, now, she thought, gasping as if she could not hold off one second more.
She was coming! She could not hold back; her body was not her own. It moved like a single taut muscle, a fist that had in its center her brother Christopher s hard prick.
The sight of his prostrate sister's twisting body excited him and he was gratified with his power as he jammed the organ into the snatch in time to the rhythm of her violent climax. But he was not as far separate from her satisfaction as he had thought-the fire seemed to well at the bottom of his belly and then to force up, burning away at the tree of his cock until it shot out from the head and drenched his sister's pussy.
Her orgasm ended as his began, and he was vaguely aware-though caught in the beat of his own coining-that she was drained and exhausted and that her body was less energetic now. Even the sides of her inner cunt did not slide so fiercely against the phallus-she was, at the very end, as motionless as a doll. But still the foam sprayed from him, while his chest heaved anxiously, until at last he was through, delivered.
"That was beautiful," Jill said. "You're beautiful," she said, and the words were punctuated by the deep breaths she had to take to keep up with her spent body.
"You're beautiful," Christopher said, and he knew that he meant it But already his mind was swimming with the confusion that had until now only hit him late at night just as he was drifting to sleep. This was his sister! He was not sure as this came home to him for the hundredth time whether he blushed, or whether his whole body was hot in the wake of his orgasm.
He was pleased with himself, certainly; he was almost embarrassed at the relief he had felt when it had come to him that he had finally lost his virginity. But somehow doing it with his sister lessened it-or did it? Perhaps it heightened it Sometimes when he thought of her-when, on the weekends, when David was in and out of the house, she could not see him-the idea that he was fucking his sister excited him especially. His sister!
Was it guilt, he wondered, or some other feeling? He longed to ask her, but he was afraid. She might think him ungrateful. Worse, his vaguely articulated misgivings might spread to Jill and she might call the whole thing off.
CHAPTER SIX
"Have you been seeing anyone else?" David Brennan's tone was conversational and mild, but the question surprised Jill nonetheless. It seemed a violation of the borders and limits he had himself set on their agreed to infidelity.
"Why?" Outwardly the scene was so normal as to be boring. The kids were away with David's sister and her husband at their cabin in Big Bear. Husband and wife sat in the breakfast nook, illuminated by the California sun on a quiet Saturday morning, the trees in the backyard still in the summer heat
"Because you weren't even here last night. That would indicate that you were the one who had been out on the town. I was at home with the children."
"I was entertaining a client"
"The client kept you out until after three-I was up until then reading. Anyway, it was your idea. You were the one who wanted to fuck everyone in sight. I agreed. O.K.? "
Brennan did not answer, but his color seemed to rise. His lips pursed in unconcealed anger. "There is someone, then."
"And if there is? You warded, it that way, you prick."
He rose and leaned across the breakfast table. He raised his arm and swung at her. His knuckles jammed into her cheekbones. Her first impulse was to scream, but she could not find her voice. She sucked in on her cheek to ease the pain; her tongue rolled over the inner skin as David stood there, waiting-for something. She could not really appraise the look in her husband's face. Was he sorry he'd hit her? Or was his anger unabated?
Her answer came when he leaned forward again and put his hands behind her neck, his fingertips digging into the base of Jill's skull. He shook her with incredible force-the blood inside her head swum madly-and Jill was afraid, though still the scream he had forced from her chest was still buried in her throat.
He let go of her and moved to the other side of the table. His hands went under her arms and he lifted her up from the upholstered bench; her breasts swung free under the nightgown she still wore. His left hand clutched tightly at her upper arm, squeezing the muscles against the bone, 'and he raised his right hand to smack her face, this time landing the blow upon her chin. His slap stunned her and her eyes blinked wildly like those of a frightened bird as she waited for the next assault. He doubled his fist and ran the knuckles over her lips, pushing the inner lips against her teeth and scraping them.
The first sound she made was a sob that rocked her body, heaving her breasts and making the nipples jut out pointed and sharp beneath the sheer fabric. Brennan rewarded her with a wide blow with his forearm as he released his grip on her bicep. Her nose began to bleed as she tumbled to the floor. She doubled up, not in pain but in anticipation of it, her chin aiming for her knees. But David, at her side, kicked her legs out from under her and she lay there, flat and supine, afraid now to move for fear of the punishment he would apply.
Brennan stood there between her outstretched legs, his shoe heels even with her toes. She could not interpret his facial expression which was un-like any she had known in the years she'd been married to him. It was cruel, ruthless, and yet it seemed to mix those emotions with a land of good spirited fun. For a moment Jill toyed with the idea that this might be an elaborate "put-on" but she dismissed the guess quickly when she saw him cover the buckle of his belt with his hand and pull the leather away from the metal nail.
He exhaled and his stomach sagged behind his trousers. The belt came smoothly through the loops, and then the long black-leather tongue hung from his doubled fist, the flash of silver evident between and beneath his bent fingers. He raised his hand while a spasm of fear fled up Jill's spine, but then appeared to reconsider. The next moment, however, his hand came up and this time his mouth was taut with determination and his eyes purposeful.
The end of the whip stung her thighs through the negligee. Her legs slammed together as she tried to protect the external twat from hurt. He let the tip of the leather hang against her body for a moment and the pressure of it between her legs gave her a cold-hot chill. She looked up and saw David's face contorted with sick pleasure; beads of sweat shone on his forehead. He inhaled deeply and again raised his hand. This time he seemed transported and the taste of the leather whip on her flesh rocked her; her spine seemed to snap as she arched her body. Her shoulders rose involuntarily.
"Please, David, don't!" she implored him as the end of the whip bit into her belly. Her voice was a dull whimper. Her stomach was hot and sore with the echo of the lash; she cringed in time with what had become the rhythm of this beating and her muscles stiffened as if to brace the bonework below them.
David Brennan stood there, coldly determined, excited by his wife's pain. He moved his wrist and the end of the belt lightly stroked his wife's belly below the navel. He moved his arm back, and the belt's tail sneaked in between her legs, touching (through the thin night-dress) the moss that covered her pudendum.
Surprising herself, Jill's legs clamped tightly together as if to hold leather between her limbs, over her pussy. When she did this she realized also that the inside of the vagina had itself exuded some moisture and she was now wet with the preliminary stage of sexual excitation. She wondered if her breathing-deep and heavy, now-could be, with this moisture, evidence that she was actually enjoying the whipping. She had heard of women who liked their men to beat them and she had wondered what kind of women they could possibly be.
She tried not to think of that. If she were enjoying the attack would she feel this uncertain about it? she asked herself. For the moment, however, she was reluctant to admit it, even if it was true, and in bracing herself for each brush of the strap, she was guarding himself, numbing herself to sensation, pleasurable or painful.
Brennan kneeled. He was wrapping the belt around his hand and his thumb kept the buckle in his palm. This-and the weird glow in her husband's eye-made Jill afraid, more afraid even than before. She held her breath and waited; she could not guess what he would do next-or else she was afraid to guess.
He pressed his hand, the palm side, against her breast. Her nipple was separated from the metal by two layers of the black leather. He forced the belt into the nipple, covering it completely with the width of leather. Jill gasped; there was no question that this excited her. Her tit became instantly erect. When he took the hand and the belt away, the whole areola was filled with a burning sensation.
He removed his hand and let his fingers fall from one breast to the other; the two boobs shook gently, like gelatin. His hand then went lower, out of sight, before Jill shut her eyes for what would come next
He had gone under the hem of the shortie gown and he brought the doubled-over whip against the oiled crease; his palm touched the hairy borders of the cut. He pushed hard and her clit swelled. His first finger and his small finger rolled lightly over the skin of her thighs. A wet groan came from Jill's throat and it was followed by a low, deep chuckle out of her husband's mouth.
"You cunt," he said cruelly. "You filthy little cunt"
The recitation of this epithet seemed to excite him further, and she winced as he stroked the labia with the belt then turned his hand and aimed the leather just inside the hole as he pressed down hard. "Oh...." she sighed, and if one did not know the circumstances, one could not be sure whether the exclamation were one of pleasure or displeasure.
He drew his hand back from under the gown. He moved his hand and shook it loose of the coil which then once more dripped from his fist. He put his left hand under the buckle and his right hand released the metal, taking the leather near the end. His other hand dropped its hold on the whip and he took the first few inches of material and teased Jill's beaver with the feel of it. It tickled her as it rustled through the cunt hair. Her clit was now a puffy pinkish pimple. He held the belt sideways and the edge of it moved inside the quim.
His fingers hooked into the orifice and he began to stuff the leather inside. Jill's heels dug into the mattress and her ass lifted off the bed. Her buttocks were jammed tight together, but the insides of the vagina dilated wide around the injected material, before, in the next moment, clamping even more tightly upon it with well-lubricated walls.
His free hand pressed at her right breast. Her tit was still sharp, but the granules inside the areola grew richly erect as he rubbed the thumb into the fabric and the fabric slid over the red-brown circle of sensitive flesh.
The inside of her cunt was soggy now and Jill was frightened by the way her whole body waited for each new sliding of the leather into her pussy. Her husband's four fingers curled into the twat while his thumb drew the inch-and-a-half wide strip from within. The moistened cowhide ran through the sex-hair, curly and thick, over the button. He jammed it down on the clitoral ridge and her spine arched so that she could meet the thrust with a counterstroke.
Her thighs still ached with the previous lashes and a swath of welt-like redness had already begun to rise on the hairless surface of Jill's thighs. The tongue slipped and the limbs caught it. The moisture on the surface cooled the sore muscle and a guttural moan of satisfaction escaped her throat.
Her eyes were closed, but she needed only the tender nerves at her hole to tell her what her husband was applying to the external flesh there: she shivered with the cold of the belt buckle. He rolled the curved edge of the fastening device from side to side over the crevice, then drew it back. More gingerly than Jill realized he pulled the labia at one side of the cunt from the matching flaps at the other and he inserted the long thin spike in the cavity. Her voice was soft and pleading now, quiet and reasonable, as if she were talking to a child or to a madman. "Please don't hurt me, David... please. I won't do anything again. I love you. Please, David. Please...." Her body broke with waves of violent sobbing. He pulled it from her gently.
He stood and the leather moved against her skin. He moved back and the strap jumped. He struck her with it again and the air around the switch whistled with speed. Her legs jumped; she drew her knees toward her at the same time her legs separated involuntarily.
She was hysterical now as he beat her again and again. Her skin was discolored with blotches of red and deathly white. The tip of the belt hit her knees and she felt as if she were falling in the center of a universe in which she was weightless.
The sides of his right shoe moved between her legs. Would he kick her-there? she asked herself, terrified. The hem of the gown was raised by the toe of the shoe and finally he stopped within inches of the sopping wet pussy.
He bent down and he tore the nightie from its center, from the hem up. It ripped easily and her nakedness almost fell out on his hands as he split the neckline above her heavy jugs.
His hands opened and he rubbed the soft flesh; the nipples were hard and Jill's rushing blood made them warm. His left hand kept playing with them while he put his right hand between her sprawled legs. She was slickly wet "Goddamn," he said, amused, as if to himself. "You enjoy it, don't you?"
It was almost as if this discovery enraged him afresh. He pushed her on her stomach; she responded with a passivity so complete that she was like a doll of real flesh. Her back and backside were still covered, although his eyes could survey the curve of her spine and the swelling of her plush butt cheeks.
He reached to her sides, closed his hands 'round the material and ripped it toward him; it shredded, but she was almost naked. She sobbed deeply and her ass shook before his fingers singed into her flesh, bruising it with the hunger of his touch. He scratched her and drew two small trickles of blood on the left can, one break in the skin on the right cheek. He brought his fingers close together and stuck his hand sideways into the crack. He felt the heat coming from her rectum and shoved his bones against it; another spasm pulled her out of reach and he pulled the hand away, only to swing down on her shoulders and deliver a loud slap.
He was on his knees. He put one hand on the linoleum floor and pushed up, rising awkwardly. He was breathing heavily, straining his chest-his throat wheezed with dryness-and his cock strained at the crotch of his trousers. He pulled at his zipper and held the prick in his hand. The slit was covered with gleaming white goo. He pulled the foreskin back as if to test the machine, but then let go; it sprung in the air and then rested, straight and stiff. His balls were surging with blood and heavy cream.
The leather touched her nude rump and made it bounce. She pressed her cheeks together and waited; the next lash was even wilder, stronger, and ripped over more skin, but this time, when he was through, the leather stayed upon the flesh and reminded Jill of what it could feel like, sensuous and soft, against the skin.
He hit her calves below the knees, and an instant bruise arose. He crouched and took the last eight inches of the whip and beat her heel so that the pain made her almost faint.
Still the clammy feeling in her organ offered a conflicting sensation, one of pleasure, one of desire. He had grown more rhythmic in the strokes he applied with the belt and now the inside of her hole wanted the same steady friction until she could let go and come.
And it was David who excited her. He seemed, however perversely, excited by her. He had never been so enthusiastic about any sexual contact they had had for months, even the last year. She could blow him in no special way that could make him breathe like this.
"Fuck me," she dared to whisper, her lips still pressed to the kitchen floor. "Fuck me," she said, a shade louder, when his hand was still and he waited wordlessly for her to repeat what she had said.
"You really like it in here, don't you, you cunt?"
"What?" In the second after she pronounced the question she was not sure if she had said anything. Her body burned with pain and the heat of pain, but her mind filled suddenly with images of Christopher. Blowing Christopher while the soup bubbled, his warm come streaming from the corners of her mouth when he erupted, while she tried to swallow each last drop of the fluid. Having Christopher fuck her right here, right on the floor.
"You know what I mean." His voice was grim. The heat of shame passed through Jill's cheeks.
"How-" How did he know?
"When I came home the tip of my shoe slid on something right here in the kitchen. I looked at the sole. It was semen, you fucking bitch!"
Jill started to cry, and she hardly knew why. Was she sorry? No-she knew that as soon as she asked herself the question; she loved Christopher too much. But... she realized how much she did not want to lose David-not for good.
He dangled the tail of leather between her legs; it just barely touched her labia through the weave of twat hair. "Still want it?" His voice was strangely calm. "Still want me to fuck you?"
"Yes." He could barely hear her, but instinctively he knew what her response would be. She did not move; perhaps she was ashamed to move, to turn her body to his, to face him.
"Then beg for it."
"Fuck me. Please fuck me." And then, after a pause: "I'm sorry... fuck me, please, David, do it to me." Tears wet her cheeks and dripped off onto the floor, creating tiny puddles under her eyes.
David Brennan lowered himself to the floor as though he were about to pray. His knees fit between her thighs, but he spread the upper legs still wider with his hands. His cock pushed against the rims of her fleshy buttocks, but when he pushed forward and put the palms on the linoleum at the sides of her hips it shoved against the deep copper of Jill's bush.
Brennan reached behind him and slipped his hands under his wife's legs just below the kneecaps. He pressed at them, sending her heels toward her butt. He grabbed her ankles with his hands and now balanced himself on them. He shifted his weight from side to side as the dome touched the hole but could not fight its way in past the converging lips.
Jill reached behind her and took hold of his instrument, shoving back so the head swam between the soggy borders of the cunt. He drove in until their hairs tangled together. He was reluctant to leave the warm, soft harbor, but a shiver in his wife's pelvis pushed him back; he surged in again on the next beat. His thumbs stroked the arches of Jill's soles, making her giggle even as the painful bruises and welts were eased by the perfect pressure of his dong in her snatch.
"Say it again," he said, and his voice was clotted with mucous. His wife knew what he meant. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"
He stroked her forcefully and quickly, swift blunt strokes that made the walls cry out for more. She was pinned under him, barely moving, but she came before he did, though the warm wash of his gism when he let go triggered her second climax.
Breathlessly she repeated the words. "I'm sorry," even as his weakened body lay limp on her ass and spine. His pubic hair tickled the rims of her ass cheeks. i
"That's OK, " he said, and his voice was almost sleepy. His fingertips pressed lightly into the sides of her breasts from behind her arms. She knew at once the truth of those words: now that he had vented his rage he was again no longer interested.
At least for a while.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was a Sunday evening in the middle of July. Christopher had become bored with his vacation and he was already impatient for the fall and college. His sister had had to restrict the time she spent with him-though he was not sure of the reason. Christopher's mornings were still occupied with working in menial capacities, usually clerical, at his father's office.
Tonight he had sought refuge in a science-fiction novel and he was half finished and no longer fascinated when the telephone rang. His father had had one installed when the boy's courtship of Lisa Ferris became intense enough to warrant one hour per night of telephonic, communication.
"Hi." There was a pause at the other end of the line, and Christopher tried to identify the somehow familiar feminine voice. "I was thinking that you were too shy to call, ever, so I decided to call."
It was Wendy, Jill's "housekeeper." The first wave of delight was followed by alternate undulations of discomfort and, strangely, fear, on Chris' part. He was already helping his sister to commit adultery; if Wendy's intentions were what her sultry voice hinted at; he could complicate matters by being unfaithful to Jill.
Curiously, Jill had been solicitous of his relationship with Lisa, evidencing no jealousy and even encouraging him. Perhaps perversely they would occasionally go over Christopher's dates with her. Jill would play coach, counseling him on ploys and approaches to the young girl's virginity. The week before she had even invited the two for dinner with David and herself. Christopher's sense of irony, if not humor, was taxed by the occasion. Jill appeared to be detached and almost scientific, considering the possibilities.
"Well?" The girl's voice did not really indicate a question, but merely a self-enforced lull in her own monologue. Wendy was in control of the situation, confident and aggressive. For a moment Christopher reflected that this solved a problem about which he had been curious, whether Wendy had indeed suspected the change in the brother-sister relationship. If she had, he thought at first, she would never have called, thus poaching on her employer's "territory." But, he flashed again, what else but such knowledge would free her from the usual conventions of female passivity? Indeed, what fascination would he normally have for her? She was three years older, attractive, and almost finished with college.
"I'm just surprised, that's all," he stumbled, coughing softly at the end of the mumbled sentence.
"It's still light," she continued, ignoring his awkwardness. "We could take a ride through Griffith Park. Maybe the merry-go-round is still open."
"Sure." His assent pleased him.
"I know where you live. I'll honk. Ten minutes, OK?"
"Yeah." He put the phone down on the cradle of the receiver. His penis had gone rock hard and formed a conical bulge beneath his trousers. He straightened his hand and aimed the side of it down on the plank, pushing until he felt the strain at the member's base.
He was dressed in a tee shirt and in madras walking shorts. He went to his closet and pulled a long-sleeved, pin-striped dress shirt from a laundry hanger. He slipped the tee shirt over his head, opened the top drawer in his bureau and removed a fresh one from a short stack. He went into the small bathroom that adjoined his room. He opened the medicine cabinet and brought a can of spray deodorant armwards before flexing the limb and depressing the button. A sizzle of evergreen drowned the fragrance of masculine sweat. He blew air over the affected area, then dropped his arms and waited for the deodorant to dry.
Back in his bedroom he put on the fresh undershirt, then climbed into the starchy dress shirt. The button down collar had already been buttoned down, but for the sake of apparent casualness he undid the collar. His undershirt showed through at the top of the row of small, pearl-white buttons and at the rim of the clean white cotton a few wires of preliminary chest hair.
He stepped out of the walking shorts, approved his current briefs, and selected a pair of permanent-pressed, denim trousers from the closet. He took a new pair of socks from his second bureau drawer, unpeeled the price marker, then unrolled them to the promised calf-length before stepping into a worn pair of square-toed Frei boots.
He looked at himself in the full-length mirror behind the door. Except for the undignified erection that still stood out behind the crotch of the slacks, he looked slim and self-assured. To deflate the erection he turned his mind to thoughts of his French teacher, Miss Merriman, a thirty-ish matron who, upon the slightest reflection, could turn his concentration far away from sexual matters and simultaneously wither his member. The discovery was particularly useful when dancing at parties and also in postponing the moment of sexual climax when Jill was not ready.
He sat in his desk chair, his palms on the armrests. He was"" nervous. He tried to continue reading the novel he had begun, but his eyes could not make sense of the print.
The basso honk, recognizable as that of a Volkswagen, tooted in front of the house. He ran down the stairway, and pushed a waving hand toward the living room where his parents were intently watching television. Outside the sky was a dusty gray threatening to turn navy blue. Wendy smiled at him, flashing perfect teeth. He could not see her eyes, hidden behind huge, round sun-glasses. He stood uncertainly at the curb, but Wendy moved to the inside of the door. He heard the crunch of the handle and the door swung open and against him. He crouched and slid in.
He shoved the metal forward and locked the door. Not looking at him, Wendy shifted from neutral to first and the car made traction on the suburban street.
"Were you surprised that I called."
"Yes." He was surprised that he could admit it without discomfort. She turned and smiled, twisting the wheel rightward in a a turn. "I figured you would be." She paused. "But you're glad?"
"Yes," he answered sincerely, gulping nonetheless. It was true. Wendy was neither pretty nor beautiful, yet she was startlingly good to look at. Her skin was a bright peach haze and her hair bright red, almost orange. Her eyes were blue-green, her lips full and always glossed with scarlet lipstick. Her body Christopher counted among the world's wonders. Her breasts, always encased in starchy brassieres, were huge and the end-tips were rounded. Her rear was large, full, compact. Her legs were stick-thin so that one almost wondered if they were strong enough to transport their accustomed load.
It was dark as she drove the car through the winding roads of the park. She stopped short on an embankment. The recent tracks of another, larger car were already engraved on the dry, pale-brown dirt. "We can walk down this ridge," Wendy announced. "It's very pretty."
She led the way. She was in beige levis and her ass squirmed in reaction to each cautious step. She was threatened with a loss of balance as her boat shoes skidded a couple of feet down the slope. He could make out the indentation of strict elastic under each of the semi-spheres. She pushed her right arm behind her and he took the wrist in his own larger hand. From that point they moved hand and hand until they reached the valley itself. One could look straight up and see the cliff edge demarcated against the sky.
Wendy stood against a large rock. She seemed to be digging her buttocks into the rock. Nervously, Christopher bent down and picked up a severed branch, then started to divide it into twigs.
The girl was wearing men's denims. He heard the sizzle of metal, then looked up to see the slacks divided, exposing between the flaps her partially clothed stomach. She wore half panties that came halfway between the overturned base of the pubic triangle and her navel. They were thin, but colored with swirls of bright color. His eyes focused on the mesh that seemed to shield the skin from the surface of the synthetic fabric.
Wendy smiled, then held her lips where they were, parting them to ask in a tone almost of hurt: "Don't you want to?"
Christopher's adam's apple bobbed. "Yes." His voice was high and he coughed to clear his throat of a clot of mucous.
As he started to walk to her he felt the trembling of muscles in his thigh. The prick quickened and burst from his undershorts. The slit rubbed against the lining of his trousers. He felt a stirring deep inside the scrotum. He tried to think about Miss Merriman, but he could not draw his eyes away from Wendy's hands, which were now pulling the tight jeans down her thighs, just as she flexed her legs in turn. A shoed leg pried its foot wear, then the naked toe folded, inside the remaining shoe and pushed it down past the sole. It dropped on the dirt. Both feet were naked and both were soiled.
She reached under her pistachio-green blouse and unhooked her brassiere. She pulled the emptied cups down across her stomach and then turned, placing the garment on a safe surface of the large rock. "I'm cold," she said, wrapping her arms in gesture across the covered breasts, but Christopher could see the fire-red tits beneath anyway. They were large and round, the size of quarters.
She pulled the pants down below her crotch, then shook her limbs forward, forcing them to slide down the thin poles of her legs. Her pubic hair was bright copper, thick, and the skin just around it was much paler than that of her legs, arms, and face. Christopher stared at her breasts and thought he detected similar whiteness around her nipples and the sides of her breasts. She had been sunning herself.
He put his mouth toward and then against hers, but she forced him back by placing her palms on his chest. At her touch his own nipples became rigid. She turned her face away. "Eat me." He looked into her eyes. They were hard and, despite her request, they did not plead, but rather ordered.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his fingertips against her thighs. She moved her legs further apart, creating a wider angle. "Lick it," she said, and as his tongue touched the clitoris he felt the tremor that jolted through her torso.
"Wow, that's good. Who taught you?" Though the words were punctuated with sighs, the girl's tone was conversational. "Oh, nobody, really," Christopher responded, cursing himself as the words came out for sounding so silly.
She forced her tuft of hair past his lips and onto his tongue. He covered the edges of his teeth with his lips and pulled in at the sliver of wet skin, now moistened with his own saliva. Her smell was stronger than his sister's, though he detected a masking odor that he guessed was that of a feminine hygiene spray, a formality his sister had dispensed with.
He lowered his head and aimed his tongue-tip inside the gash. The taste of her cunt-flesh was sharp, bitter. He wagged the soft flank back and forth inside the expanded slot The back of his finger rubbed against his lips and chin as he shoved it inside the pussy. Wendy's fingertips played with the surface of the rock. She doubled her fingers over on their knuckles and moaned as Christopher gnawed at the fragments of flesh. He bit into the hollow of one thigh, then wiped his salivating tongue across the other side. His fingernails plunged into the meat of the outer thigh. She thrust her pelvis forward and a single pubic hair caught between his front and canine teeth. He bucked his head away from the redhead's groin, cutting the hair painfully as he did.
"Harder," she said, "make me come." There was a gurgling sound deep in the girl's throat. "Make me come good." She dug her fingers into his thick hair, pressuring the scalp beneath with the sharp nails. He bobbed his head as he licked the slit over and over again. Sounds like flatulence interrupted the silent tongue-lashing. "Yes, yes... yes!" Wendy put her palm to her forehead. The palm's sweat blended with the moisture that had escaped the skin over her furrowed brows.
He felt her body squirming inside his embrace. The cheeks of her ass strained against the hands which held them cupped and captive. She was turning around. Now her stomach touched the rock, against which she had been leaning. Her buttocks stuck out behind her and her pelvis bucked away from the stone. Her hands were behind her and her thumb pointed toward the crack from either side of the precipice. She was separating the two mountains. Christopher was puzzled.
He pushed his stomach against her naked ass, feeling his prick tingle as the head jammed into the soft and yielding flesh.
"Inside," she whispered, and lie watched as she turned her head slightly on her neck. He could only see her ear and he puckered his lips and pressed them, dry, against it. His lower, teeth scraped the lobe and a spasm of pleasure passed through Wendy. She arched her spine and she rubbed the occipital bone of her skull against the base of her neck, shuddering. "Stick it in...." She breathed deeply as Christopher pushed his penis underneath the arch her spread legs formed. He pushed upward, hoping to achieve the vagina canal. "No," she counseled, bumping her buttock against his hard stomach, "up the ass."
Christopher moved back and the prong sprung out. and in between the two cheeks which she held open her fingers tightening their grip on the flabby tissue. In one stroke almost the whole of his penis was covered. But at the end of the swing he reached the obstruction of the anus. The ring of flesh was cramped tightly in folds where the dome tried lodge.
The sides of her fingers brushed along his sex. She was reaching toward the rectal muscle itself, trying to pull it apart so that he could enter her. His cock anxious for friction, moved inside the sheath of he flesh. A few droplets of early emission greased the opening, but as he pushed forward he was blocked. Her index finger moved under the head of his penis and into the small, tight hole itself. She shoved forward, buried the digit to the first knuckle, and then unplugged herself. She pressed the dry fingertip against the flattened underside of the penis' spine. He felt the slit touch the tiny ripples of muscle. He hoisted himself forward, and Wendy grunted as he filled the first few inches of the thing with the dong.
"You're in," Wendy said, whispering as though the breath had been knocked from her lungs. He tried to push further inside, but the soft wires of his pubic hairs merely pressed into her buttocks and he seemed to gain no more thorough a penetration. She wiggled the insides of the cheeks against the stern and he felt it bend. "Deeper, stick it deeper." This time she curled her spine and aimed her ass into his stomach. His cock was half covered inside the anal tract. He felt a certain dampness in the tissue that clung around his erect fiber. But each millimeter of passage was an effort, and the glans was rubbed nearly insensitive as he plowed through her.
He felt her soft, small hand fold around his four long fingers. The palm touched the curve of her pelvic bone and the tips glossed over the fabric of her woman's wool. She touched the back of his stubby forefinger with her own and slid it to the clitoris. Christopher rolled the tip of the digit over the pearl. The folds of the vaginal opening were wet and he stuck his index finger as far up the hole as it could reach. The edge of the first finger squirmed over the button while the other plodded mechanically up the moistening snatch. He fingered her slowly, drawing out each stroke. His forearm ached with the exercise before long. Christopher was sweating and he felt the chill of the night air cool the beads of perspiration that had formed on his neck. His shirt, fastened by the sweat, adhered to his shoulder.
Now her hands reached behind her, across his sides. She gathered his buttocks into her hands squeezing at the trousers and bringing her fingertips in the space between the globes. She held the flesh so tightly that Christopher squirmed and pushed the dong further inside. The rectal lining stretched with the movement. Welded to the instrument, she could hardly move her groin. He teased the labia with his fingers, spreading the moisture from inside the twat with the flats of the tips. Then he pushed four fingers of his right hand, curled together, inside the slot, rubbing the glistening hairs at the side of the hole with the inside of his left hand.
As he moved his weight back she shoved her full hips into his stomach, deep, and he gasped. He came forward and the sphincter coil relaxed; he was able to bury a full inch more of the cock within the long, tight hole.
His right hand continued to play with the furrows of the redhead's warm cunt, but his left went underneath her sheer blouse to feel her nipples, which were large and stiff. Gingerly his forefinger traced the areola's circumference. His palm turned over and he held the round breast from its underside. She thrust her chest forward deeper into his hand and he rubbed the tit on the silk-like fabric of her shirt. In response she jammed her rear close on his stick, bent forward, and reached under his legs for his scrotum. He was ticklish as she pulled on the tough skin and a hidden ball bounced on her knuckle.
Her body began to twist above the waist and her shoulders rose and fell with the same rhythm he used to plug her. She farted, and the wind broke across the head of his cock. "Deeper," she moaned, screwing her ass against his stomach while he spread his legs wider and bent his back.
Her bung-hole was so tight that it seemed to squeeze the cream out of the prick's head. Wendy groaned as a trickle of the warm fluid dribbled on the walls. The outside of her beaver was greased with the thin, sticky wetness of her cunt's interior. The clit was swollen as Christopher pressed his fingertip into it; it sprang back and he rolled the ends of the pussy hair back down upon it. He put his mouth on her shoulder and his tongue moistened the tanned skin. His teeth cut into the flesh and Wendy shivered. His tongue slid down to the pit, hairless and sweaty; she was salty to his taste.
He rose up on her toes to plow the dong further up her snatch. The sides of the hole caught each millimeter of movement. At last the creaming came, burning him as it poured from the end of his phallus.
His first and second fingers smashed through the labial folds and stuffed the cunt. Wendy twisted wildly, gasping with each violent stroke of the fingers as they made jerking motions imitating fucking. The twat-muscle contracted, holding the bones so tight they could not move. The contraction was followed by a dilation that let him shove the digits an inch further up her juicy socket.
She was shaking as the come soaked the dry, musky walls of her ass-hole. He was bouncing on his feet and as the cock rose inside of her it pushed at the sphincter. She farted again as the last hot spurts filled her rectum. The semen he'd deposited in the early strokes streamed down and started to. drip from the hole itself, back upon the uncovered part of his shaft
The fingers were scratching the surface of her tit, already as sharp as a diamond. Her breast shook up and down against his wrist while she pushed her pussy down on the fingers stroking her. His thumb brushed quickly against her inflated clit-pimple and the hairs were wet with perspiration and hormonal oils; the smell of her groin filled Chris' nostrils.
The last shove made her butt cheeks jump for seconds afterward, but now he stayed inside her, half the way into the rectal passage, spent, with his cock diminishing in size with each second. Breathing deeply, Wendy made her breasts move against Christopher's wrist. "Oh, wow," she said, her voice surprisingly deep now, "that was perfect."
When she had recovered from her exhaustion, Christopher was still dazed. She squirmed on the deflated shaft and tried to shove her body forward to free herself. The head popped out; his glans felt raw and Christopher noted with amusement the thought that passed through his brain-it felt like it would never come again.
She turned to face him. She thrust her crotch out at him and he felt soaked in her womanly moisture. His cock hung limp between his spread legs. "Let's relax," she said, and her voice was softer and more natural sounding now.
The two lay naked on the ground, and Wendy rolled over on Christopher's chest. He was only vaguely excited by the way she took her breast in her hand and touched her own areola to his, though both tits stiffened immediately. She pushed down and set her mouth against his areola; her breath was warm against it as it rushed from the corners of her closed lips. The folds were wet, though, and she moved her head back and forth. She pressed on him with the force of her teeth, below the lips.
Then the lips drew open and she rustled on the circle of pink with the edges of her front teeth. He winced, but the painful feeling was relieved in just a second when her tongue gave the nipple a bath in saliva. She whipped it with the tongue's tip, then zeroed in for slow circular motions that had him breathing in deeply within moments.
Her hand was at his crotch, testing him, and she squeezed together the scrotum and the cock which was slowly filling with blood. Her fingernails ripped into the wrinkled scrotal-skin and she stuck her thumb into the base of the erecting instrument.
Her hands were open and rubbing gently at his chest just below the nipples. She kept up the subtle massage as she lowered herself down the line of his body. When she took the head of the half stiff penis in between her lips, holding the bag still in the center of her hand, Chris wondered what his cock smelled like from her rectum. But the feel of her tongue along his burning slit banished any other thought from his mind but the way she would continue. He straightened his legs and waited for her to go down the pole; she did not disappoint him.
Her lips were pursed around the end of her tongue and she was stretching it out of her mouth so only the tip scraped wetly at the center of the prick. She started at the indentation in the head just behind the opening and slipped down the stalk's middle. The tongue stopped briefly at the softness of the bag and her finger, dampened with her own spit, pushed between his ass cheeks. He reached below and played with her breasts, somehow impatient.
She came up as quickly off the dong as she had slipped down it. By now it was hard enough for insertion, but instead she gripped the penis with her teeth just below the glans on the pulled foreskin. One side of the head touched the dry roof of Wendy's mouth while the other brushed upon the moist and momentarily lifeless tongue.
He heard her draw in air through her teeth as though she were sucking, but he didn't feel the force of her mouth until she, closed her lips around the shaft's circumference. Now the blood was being pulled up toward her mouth and he felt a straining in the region of his balls. She was exciting him too quickly after the last bout, but he couldn't tell her to stop-not that he really wanted her to.'
Only the first few inches of cock were in her mouth under the grating of her teeth. She was licking the glans side to side, over and over. With one hand she rubbed the part of the organ outside of her mouth and her fingertips pressed forcefully. Her strokes were short, blunt and yet deft. Turned on, Chris pushed his buttocks into the earth and closed his eyes, imagining himself being sucked inside her mouth, beyond the lips....
With her other hand she had clutched her breast and she was kneading the soft mound. The nipple was stiff and now she put her palms down on the ground beside her lover's hips. She let both boobs dangle down on his crotch. One jug was on each side of the penis. She pushed up on her arms and slid the nipple of the left breast, then the nipple of the right breast over the head. His slit leaked drops of come on each areola. She raised her chest off of him. On her knees she took one breast in each hand and she rubbed the semen into her nipples until both tits were dry and raw.
She was leading, one knee at a time, her legs straddled, toward his cock with her cunt. She wiggled her outer pussy on the head of the instrument and her hairs and slickened labia tickled him. She had framed her breasts in her hands, but now he pressed the tip of his forefinger into one nipple and shoved the other back into the surrounding flesh with his thumb. She let go and lazily massaged the outside curves of her butt, thrusting her pelvis forward, trying to get the prick to where it could shove in and fill her hole. He took the organ near the root and rolled it around threateningly while she hovered above the head. She leaned forward and stroked his stomach lightly with her fingernails. "Put it to me, Chris. Put it inside me. Mmmmmn, it's so big."
With that she stuck her finger between his balls and jabbed the base of the dong. Reacting, Chris shoved up and made a shot inches wide of the orifice.
"Here, let me," and her own hand folded around the stick above his. She bent the rod forward and then touched it to her twat lips. They were wet and soft. He could see them move around the cock as she sat down on it; they were more purplish now than pink.
"Oh," she said, her voice once again miraculously deep. "Yeah," she mumbled, as the stiff member cut through the oily tissue toward the base of Wendy's womb. She pushed forward and her breasts collided with Christopher's chest. The nipples were as sharp as needles, but she moved them hardly at all. She was parallel to him as he lay there, and her legs stretched out at Chris' sides. He drew his knees toward his stomach between her limbs, forcing her fanny up in the air and allowing him deeper penetration.
Being that far inside of Wendy's pussy, however, he could not move very much between the converging walls of tissue. He wiggled his ass on the ground, and the tip of the prick smashed into one wall and then the other. Excited by the way he stretched the lining of her cunt, Wendy followed on his lead and began to swing out with wide strokes.
The gummy fluid sprayed out before she expected it, and to give herself an orgasm she put her hand under her and pulled at the filament of her clit, yanking the puffy button until her cunt opened wide with the first wave and her hips forced her stomach even further down the phallus.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jill wondered whether it was because she hadn't seen her brother in five days and she had to re-accustom herself to him-or whether he really was acting strangely with her. Of course there had been an extra person at lunch-Wendy, her housekeeper-and they were not used to being together, lately, with other people.
When Wendy left, she told Christopher that he seemed cold. They were sitting in the living room and he had put his arm on the sofa behind Jill's neck. "I do?" he answered, innocently enough. "I'm sorry," he continued, in the tone of someone who would be, except that he doesn't know for what to be regretful.
"Maybe it was Wendy," she said, and she noticed the strange look that came into her brothers eye. "Did you mind her having lunch with us? I didn't think you would."
"No. Really."
She thought a moment, and a smile spread across her face. "Do you think she's attractive, Chris?" That would explain, of course, his discomfort.
"Sort of."
"Would you like to fuck her."
"What?" Christopher blushed beet red.
"You heard what I said. "I-I-"
"I talked to her once about sex a few months ago. She's really quite liberal about it. I thought I saw her give you some funny looks. Maybe she's attracted to you."
"But what are you talking about, sis? You and I-"
"Well, I'm not the jealous type." She stroked her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. "In fact... I'd sort of like to-" here she giggled, touching his wrist with her fingertips-"I'd like to watch."
Christopher's eyes widened. And, though he did not quite know why, his breath and pulse quickened, At the back of his skull he sensed a nervous throb.
"That time she sort of hinted that she... did it with women, too."
Christopher had begun to consider himself a man of the world, what with his recent sexual success, but both Wendy's alleged homosexuality and Jill's ap-parant tolerance of it shocked him. "Do you mean that?" he asked.
'Well, I think that's what she meant."
"Do you-" He blushed again, and he found he could not finish the sentence.
"You're asking me whether I want to make love to her?"
"I-yes, I mean."
"Well, no. I mean, I'm not a lesbian." She paused and seemed to purr as she took his hand by the wrist and led him to the slope of her breast. "You of all people should know that." She continued: "But I thought she might even like to have me watch. We could both-Wendy and I-make love to you at the same time."
Now the only way Chris could get rid of his incredible hard-on was to fuck his sister there on the living room couch. He didn't want to appear overanxious, but he wondered whether he should tell Jill that he'd already screwed Wendy. For a second the thought passed through his mind that Jill was testing him-that ,she really was jealous of Wendy-but he dismissed the idea. Still, he couldn't tell her of the time he'd been with her housekeeper because Jill had a way of liking to "boss" or to "plan." Most of the time, she preferred to be the aggressor.
"Yes," she went on, and put her hand on his lap just above his soaring member, "I can tell you'd like that. You haven't been this big in a long time." She squeezed him for good measure, and he thought the cock's head would explode with come. Some of the dog-water seeped out and dampened the front flap of his briefs. She stuck three fingertips into the scrotum, and Chris rubbed his ass against the couch.
His sister got up. She was wearing a pants suit, the trousers of which were loose. She wore a thick, silk sash through the belt loops. It was this that she now untied before slipping out of the pants.
"What are those? What happened? Were you in an accident?" Chris' eyes widened at the bruises that covered his sister's body. His heart beat fast with concern for her.
"Sort of." Jill had wondered a hundred times in the last few days whether she should tell Chris what David had done to her. But it was only at this moment that she made her decision. Actually, it was no decision at all; unable to make up her mind, she merely told the truth. "David hit me."
"Hit you? You mean he beat you up."
"Yes." She had debated whether to tell him the truth because she was unsure of how he would react. Would he want to hurt David in return? But now it appeared he was merely shocked; it was hard for him to believe that his brother-in-law (whom he'd always liked) had done such a thing to his sister.
"Oh, Sis." He stood up, but his mind was reeling; it was hard to keep his balance. He put his palm gently on the small of her back and with his other hand he brought her head down on his shoulders. At the same time he felt the chill of her quivering flesh against his legs while the trousers lay crumpled at her ankles. Jill did not know why, but somehow she liked the pressure of his limbs on her bruises and welts; it made her relish the pain.
Christopher felt his eyes welling with tears, but he could not bring himself to cry; he should be strong, he told himself, in order to comfort his sister. "Why?" he asked her, his voice cracking.
She could not tell him that, Jill knew. He would feel guilty as though he himself had done the whipping. 'We had an argument-just a silly little argument about the children. He was drunk. Otherwise he never would have done it."
"Poor Jill. Poor baby." As though she were a child to be comforted he patted her shoulders and her back just below her neck. "What can I do?" His voice sounded to Jill quite helpless and suddenly she felt sorry for him.
Her grin, as she raised her face to look into his eyes, was one of mischief. "Make love to me." She watched his serious, pained demeanor change while his grip as he held her above the buttocks tightened and his thumbs pressed on the fleshy sides of her waist.
"Here?" He looked down at the couch.
"The bed would be more comfortable," she suggested. Because of the discomfort caused by the bruises, Jill was rather sensitive and she wanted this fuck to be as easy as possible.
He waited for a moment. "Would you like me to carry you?" He knew she was more than able to walk, but Chris wanted some way of showing the tenderness he felt toward her.
She laughed. "If you want to." She almost blushed as he picked her up; she was impressed by his strength; he seemed to move her effortlessly. Her trousers still stayed at her bare ankles and he had her ass cradled in his arms. His fingers poked her flesh through cotton panties. She knew she was going moist inside when she pressed the walls of her quim together.
He walked past the threshold of the master bedroom and he lay her down on the bed where she slept with David. The soft blanket soothed her sore ass and she spread her legs apart invitingly. Chris, still standing, walked to the foot of the bed and pulled the pants off her legs, then draped them over the back of the chair at Jill's dressing table. On her back, his sister unbuttoned the vest top of the outfit and then the blouse below it. She had taken-since her affair with Christopher began-to wearing bras only infrequently, but this, unfortunately, was one of the days she had chosen to.
The blouse and the vest lay open, parted around a swath of tanned female skin and the inner rims of two lacy white bra cups. At the center of the cups, just hidden, were Jill's ripe nipples. She breathed deeply and the jugs rose.
She pushed her soles into the bed and her ass came off the mattress. "Pull them down for me, will 'ya, hon?" Obediently Chris ran the silk-like material down her slim legs, staring as he did at the hairy vortex of her body and feeling the sun-bleached bristle of leg hair on his fingertips. He felt a spurt of energy in the root of his prick, inside the scrotum, when he passed the underwear over the balls of her heels.
"Come here, baby, and love me," she said, raising her arms as if to embrace him. As he put his hands on the bed at her sides, his shirt clung to his back and the slight chill reminded him that the Los Angeles heat made him perspire heavily.
One of the things that was most characteristic about the way his sister made love was that when he would press his mouth down on hers to kiss her, her lips would always be parted much wider than his own. His tongue fell into the soft, wet pit and curled around hers as she ran her lower teeth along his lower lip. She pressed her fingers into his neck and shoved her naked groin into his stomach, forcing the prick's shaft up against his navel. Her nudity was waisted on his dungarees, so Jill pulled on his zipper and extricated the member, sore with excitement and pumping semen.
Her fingernails scratched his belly and he bucked his hips back in response. Now she took the cock and bent it to the slash. She was dry there, but a drop of gism was deposited just on the hole. With her other hand she spread the moisture over her cunt flaps, unable to stop herself from stroking her clitoris on the way.
His hands pushed between the sides of her opened vest and her unbuttoned blouse. He squeezed the melons inside their holsters. "I thought you didn't wear them any more," he said.
"This blouse looks better if I wear one," she said, calmly. Her spine arched so that his hands could slip under and unclasp the straps. "There," she sighed comfortably when the hands, moving back under arms, caressed the sides of the breasts. Her flesh was cool and dry and the jugs pliable.
"Aren't you going to get undressed on top?" he asked her, surprised when she made no motion to do so.
'It's too hot for all that effort," she laughed, and he didn't know whether or not to take her seriously. "Besides, I kind of like the idea of fucking when I'm still half dressed. I just had you undo the bra because it would be more comfortable." She paused, and her tongue tip wiped her upper hp, making it gleam. "Besides," she said, tightening her grip on his penis, "I've got all of you that I need right now."
He felt her pulling on the dong with her fingers as though she wanted to rip the head off. She was leading him to the slot, but she was still unlubricated. She flicked her own clit with the fleshy dork head and he had to put his hand to the beaver to see that it had swelled to erection.
He slid his finger to the hole itself and inserted it to the first knuckle. She wasn't really wet, but the muscle had loosened. She was operating her pelvis almost mechanically as if she were jacking herself off on his hand. He pulled the bone from the twat and stroked the labia. He put his mouth to her breast. She thrust her breast up into his mouth while he sucked on the tit, twisting his tongue over the grainy surface of the areola.
His right hand pressed at her stomach at the same time she pushed her pud into his other hand. He was flicking the clitoris, rubbing it with the moisture his finger had drawn from her pussy.
She opened her mouth and her tongue stroked the corner of her lips. He faced her and started to kiss her violently. Her tongue was like a snake, snarling about his own, trying to suck him in and pour him down her throat.
Two fingers plowed past the labia and filled her hole, greasy now. Jill's body snapped first above the waist and then below it. Her breast flesh quivered with her excitement as her brother finger-fucked her. She pressed her vaginal muscles together and pushed the head of his instrument into her soft, hairless thigh.
Again he put the underside of the prick against the beaver-muff. The lips moved under the shaft, wiggling, and the clit puffed as the insides of the snatch moistened. He shoved the head into the clit so hard that Jill groaned. She took the staff halfway down and pushed up on the soles of her feet. He entered her in a single stroke and the lubricated tissue separated at the insertion. He pushed the clothing on her breasts to the side, then dragged the bra hoops to her midriff and left them there. He squashed them anew each time he came down on her to drive his cock all-the way through the vagina.
She grabbed him around the waist and held him tight Her pussy felt hot and the glow was spreading to her stomach, to her ass, to her breasts-where the tits were as hard as scarlet diamonds. Sloppily, he swung his face down to the left nipple and smeared it wetly with the end of his tongue. The little budlets inside stiffened and waited for a second stroke of the tongue, but this went instead to the other breast. Before leaving the melon, he scraped the underside with the edges of his lower front teeth, leaving a scratch with the point of the canine tooth.
She was so wet now there was almost no friction in the box. Jill had to make up for it by raising her legs up off the bed and squeezing her brother with them. Then she squirmed from side to side and her hold on the organ was perfect. She teased his scrotum, pulling down on the bag with the flat of her thumb and the tip of her forefinger, and then she nearly drove him crazy with the way her nails scraped the wrinkled juice-bag.
Chris' eyes were closed and his half-open mouth signaled his nearness to climax. The spaces between his ecstatic gasps grew shorter and Jill was sure the cock itself momentarily expanded inside the hole. His palms were on the bed and only their groins were attached; he was inches off her breast and face. She squeezed her own boobs, rubbing the insides of her hands on the taut nipples. "Uh-uh-uh...." she moaned gutturally while he socked the whang forward. Her own orgasm was coming on. She let go of her tits and clamped her hands around his shoulders. She let the power of his orgasm pass through her and the heat of his semen electrified the lining of the cunt.
Her heels had been pressing into the backs of her brother's calves, but now her lower limbs swung out while she twisted on the shaft buried in her oily cavity. She was like a wild cat clawing a pole for balance; the only thing that mattered was whether or not she could hold on. Her quim was an efficient instrument keeping the steadily pumping male organ within her like a vacuum, draining from it-for her own pleasure-his gooey semenal emission.
Satisfied, her body coiled lazily around her brother's. Her legs, which had snapped out, now came in, bending at the knees, and wrapped themselves around the lower part of his nearly lifeless body. His erection loosened immediately after the last spurt of gism and he pulled out almost in time to the strokes of coitus. His deflating penis lay wet and rumpled in her soggy bush as he collapsed his weight on her breasts. She sighed, and though he cupped one breast in his hand, the surface of the areola was now flaccid. The come started to seep from her distended hole, wetting the sheet below her sprawled legs.
She squeezed the withered cock affectionately, then let it go, smiling to herself at the way the touch of it left her palm sticky. Her brother rolled off her and looked blankly at the ceiling; his body still expanded and shrank with the huge lungfuls of air he was taking in.
Christopher blushed crimson with shame. All the time he had been coming, he had been thinking not of his sister-but of Wendy.
CHAPTER NINE
"I didn't tell her," Wendy whispered when his sister excused herself from the lunch to go to the bathroom. A week had passed and he hadn't heard from Wendy; he had been too uncertain to call her. All he knew was that Jill had talked to the girl and Wendy had agreed to go to bed with her employer and her employer's brother. "She says she thinks incest is groovy," Jill reported to Christopher. "She says she wishes she had brothers of her own." At that Christopher's heart literally skipped a beat.
After she had advised him that she had not told his sister (of their previous tryst), Wendy said nothing more until Jill returned. She rose to clear the table of dirty lunch dishes and Jill laughed. "You don't have to play housekeeper today-wouldn't that be silly, though?" Wendy blushed, though Chris doubted whether the blush had to do with sex; he suspected that instead it resulted from the awkwardness of intimacy with her employer.
"Well, what do you two think about going to bed?" Jill was smiling like a proper hostess, but Christopher felt uneasy. He looked at Wendy, though, who had risen once again from her seat and seemed anxious to get on with it
Within minutes he found himself undressing in the master bedroom, watching both women-at different sides of the bed-removing their clothing. Their bodies were more similar than he had realized, though Wendy seemed larger because she was a blonde. The girl had been wearing faded jeans and a pale pink man's shirt that draped her braless breasts magnificently. The peach-colored tits blended nicely with the color of the fabric. She wore bikini-type panties, white and so thin that they seemed transparent; the thick pubic hair stood out in the vee of the garment like so many fine engravings. When she pulled the panties down past her knees the wool caught a glint of sunlight that made it look almost red. Her labia were thick and purplish-while his sister's were more raw-pink-and they were so obviously distended he could see them across the room when she lifted her leg to climb on the large king-sized bed.
As if to make her disrobing more spectacular, Jill had today perversely decided to wear a bra. Coincidentally its color was the same light shade of pink as Wendy's top. Her tits had already come to small, sharp peaks in the centers of the cups. She walked across the bedroom in her bra and panties with panty-hose and offered her back to Christopher's hands which in the excitement of the moment trembled slightly as he moved his fingers to release her from her bondage. He wanted to run the fingertips along the sides of the jugs, but he was diverted by the way Wendy, already nude and on the bed, had spread her legs wide, exposing her soft, hairy slot.
Perhaps Jill's pride was hurt, but in any case she stepped forward and out of her brother's reach, wiggling her butt cheeks beneath her pantyhose as she drew nearer to the bed. She stood at the corner of the bed and peeled the undergarment off from the waist down. The hose had been dark green, so the sweet, pale flesh came as almost a surprise as she made herself totally naked. Christopher watched Wendy, who in turn was watching his sister with a concentration that didn't seem platonic.
The shades had been drawn on the room and as a result the air was cool, though the room was still light. Christopher sighed deeply as he stared at the bed where two naked women-one of them his sister-awaited him. His naked prick stood straight up and out from the root of his belly. His scrotum seemed small underneath it, but the balls swelled with excitement.
He walked over to the bed, conscious that the eyes of both women were on the symbol of his sex. He mounted the mattress from the side of the bed on which his sister lay supine, but the women had instinctively left a space for him in the middle of the bed and he pushed over his sibling's nude flesh, just barely touching his fingertips to Wendy's side and then sprung on to his back. He hardly knew what to do next; to touch one woman first might be an offense to the other.
Wendy solved the problem for him by diving for his cock with her mouth. The first thing Chris felt was her tongue over the slit of his cock's head; the sensation was like an ice cube on the area. Her breath was fast and heavy; sucking him off obviously excited her. She pulled on the foreskin and beat at the organ gently.
Jill was not to be outdone by her housekeeper. She pushed herself further down the long wide bed on her knees and took possession of the sac with her tongue. The inflated almonds brushed each other inside the skin as she stroked them; the tip of her tongue even threatened the start of his anus, but he, under the assault of two skillful tongues, had so stiffened his body that his cheeks were clenched together.
At the same time Jill was massaging her brother's strong thighs which were now coated with the sweat of over stimulation. Wendy had crunched her limbs together so that she drilled her folded body to Chris' sides as she blew him. Jill had never slept with a woman, but she could not help but notice how attractive Wendy's young ass was, the way it pushed up into the air.
For the moment she cast these thoughts aside and wondered what she could do for her own satisfaction while Chris lay there so passive and Wendy's mouth kept revolving on his tube. She pushed up on her palms and stood on her knees, crotch wide open as her legs were spread, and then she drew the sole of her brother's foot to her beaver. She grabbed his big toe and bore down hard on her clitoris. Chris, shocked by the touch of her pussy, raised his head off the bed and stared in disbelief as his sister's groin hovered over his foot. She moved her hips and pelvis and in a moment he felt the toe inside her, and in another second it was being rubbed over her beaver, the lips of the genitalia now slimy-slick with lubrication.
When Wendy took her mouth off his penis the organ was dripping wet, and her warm" breath hit it like a cold wind. She closed her fist around the stiff member and yanked on the skin; her grip was tight. He wondered if she had any idea how close to coming he was just as she opened her fingers and let the instrument loose. She struck the flatter side of the dong with her thumb and she rolled the nailed tip side to side over the sensitive skin.
Christopher opened his eyes to see his sister spread-eagled and writhing over the poor stump of his toe. The split was greasy with female juices. Her breasts bounced delightfully as she paced herself over the small bone. But Wendy's face drew away from his pecker and Chris wondered what she would do next.
She crawled on her knees to the head of the mattress, where his own skull lay on a soft pillow. Her crotch almost touched the pillow with the ends of the curly bush hairs. She jutted her stomach forward and tickled the boy's cheek with the tiny jungle and her own finger flicked the clit button and pushed it away from the hanging folds.
Her palm pressed to the side of his face and pulled him toward her. She lifted her leg over his neck and then sank down on his lips which parted immediately. His tongue worked energetically at the outside of her pussy, concentrating on the fleshy bead that seemed to grow bigger with each thirsty stroke.
It was as though she were dunking her body on the axis of Chris' chin and mouth. His jaw was already oily with the sauce from her privates and his nostrils were filled with the salt-sour odor of cunt. For variety he pushed his forefinger up the gash and wiggled it within, stretching the opening from the outside wide enough so his tongue could enter with it
His sister now sat on her ass with her legs sprawled outside Chris'; the whole sole of his long, narrow foot was drilled to her pud. She held him by the ankle and forced her body tightly to his. He began to get into the spirit and so he flexed his smaller toes along the clitoral ridge. The surface layer of cunt was hot and damp. Jill's heavy boobs lay on her chest, moving langurously as she inhaled and exhaled deeply. The areolas were taut and their color apparently a darker red as the tiny grains inside the circles erected.
The orgasm that had come so close when Wendy was sucking him off was now forestalled and Chris felt no fear that by signaling that he wanted satisfaction of some kind that he would come too soon and end the three-way tangle. He arched his spine and thrust his naked belly up in the air, the cock pressing on ahead of it like a beacon. In response Jill pushed up off his now moist foot and sidled up his left leg, her twat hairs meshing with the shorter hairs that covered his limb. She had already reached for his organ; she rolled the prick forward from its natural angle of erection, then kneaded the soft scrotal skin.
Chris could not tell for sure, but he guessed, as Wendy rose up off his mouth, her pubic hair soggy with his tonguing, that the girl was sexually competitive; that she wished to show she could do as much to get him off as his older sister could. But she could not resist the impulse to squat down for a brief few moments to collect the last of his efficient cunnilingus like a sleeper who silences his alarm clock and steals a few extra moments of rest. He rewarded her anxiousness by covering his teeth with his lips and then sucking in on the bloated clitoris. She cupped her hands 'round the back of his skull and lifted his head from the pillow. He felt his mouth being welded to her vagina as she came down for her climax.
Her sex pimple was almost electric to the touch of his lips. Her fingernails scratched his scalp as her whole body shook. "Uh-uh-uh!" she groaned, seeming to squeeze the sounds out of her diaphragm as the inside of the twat muscle quivered with moist relief and she stroked the outside of the pussy over the lower part of the boy's face. To maximize her satisfaction, Christopher had the presence of mine to reach up for her creamy jugs. His hands opened and shoved the soft tissue back against her chest and the tits stiffened in his palms. He held her like this, fast and stationary, while the lower half of her body twisted and squirmed. She leaned to the side on her waist and her mouth was open wide as the satisfaction filled her soaking snatch.
Meanwhile his sister had balanced her body above his upright prick and she was re-moistening the dome with the ooze from her vaginal lips. She rubbed the side of the cock with her wrist, gently, and the instrument twitched as a new surge of blood poured through it.
She held the cock firmly to her hole and swiveled down it until their hairs twisted together and none of the stalk itself was left outside. Her flesh was warm on his and he thrust out one hip bone and then the other, trying to move himself inside the slot even though he was fully planted. The pressure teased her walls and Jill accelerated her stroking of the tool.
Wendy had rolled to the side of the bed to rest herself in the wake of her climax which had broken her taut-muscled poise and left her flaccid and passive on the mattress, inches away from the copulating brother and sister. It did not take long, however, for her to revive and want to take part
This time, however, she would center her lust on the woman, and it would be her aim to give rather than to take pleasure. Jill had never told her, of course, that she would like to make it with her, another woman, but Wendy had assumed that lesbian love making had been included on the agenda for this afternoon's tryst.
Leaning forward on her left hand and resting her weight on her haunches, heels touching naked ass, Wendy opened her hand and let. her palm slide over Jill's right breast. The nipple had been partly stiff before, but it grew harder still as she rolled her fingertips over it. The older woman's eyes had been drawn shut, but they opened now in wide surprise. Jill had considered the possibilities of making love to her young housekeeper, but she had let her decision lapse until she was actually in the situation. Now commitment could no longer be postponed.
Yet she realized that the way the situation had been set up had made the decision for her. She could not-did not want-to break her own rhythm as she sat aside her brother, pumping furiously at his dork. And, curiously, a woman's touch seemed not that much different than that of a male, except that it was softer, smoother.
So she let the hand clutch her breast, and she sighed as her tits stiffened and swelled. The girl's other hand stroked her stomach, just below the breasts, and a long, sharp nail tickled the inside of her navel. She braced herself for the inevitable when Wendy's fingers would move even lower, to explore the external genitalia.
When the contact came it was more perfect than Jill could have believed. The single fingertip brushed her labia, distended around the inserted prick like satin on satin. Some of the thick fluid moved under the crown of the young girl's fingernail and Wendy circled the head of her love clit until two fingers came together around it and pulled it from the mesh of pubic hair and cunt flesh. Jill's insides opened around her brother's meat and the sensation was so intense she almost felt sick. But that passed in a moment and her vagina closed around the penis he was sending stiffly up and down that chute. His strokes had become simpler and blunter, short stiff jabs at her greased interior. She, with the impetus of these strange, soft hands on her body, twisted around the cock. Her body rotated around it; when it pushed against one part of the ring of twat muscle, the other was loose and felt empty. In the next moment, however, swinging wild, she corrected that need.
Eagerly, Chris' hands played with Wendy's ass cheeks, inches away from his side. They seemed waiting to be touched and indeed the girl rolled them appealingly while he massaged the fatty tissue. He took one globe in each hand and squeezed the plushiness until they blushed deep pink under and around his fingers and then he yanked the cheeks apart, disclosing a shaded alleyway that ended in a knot of pink sphincter. He thought of moving his mouth toward the ass, but the feel of his sister's pussy riveted to his member made him lazy and greedy for his own pleasure.
Wendy raised her leg while the boy surveyed the whole arch of her sex, following the hair with a glance under her spread legs to where the buttocks converged. In a moment those cheeks and her own cunt obscured Chris' vision, for she had come down for a second round of cunt sucking.
He obliged her, though this time his technique was somewhat different. He was rougher, for one thing; he couldn't spare the time to slowly whip her to a froth with his tongue. His own orgasm was coming up too quick, and the waves of come spurting from his Vermillion penis tip would inevitably distract him from her cunt when she would need the sucking most. So he let his lips pull up and he grazed the enamel surfaces over the pouting skin folds. He opened his mouth wide and let the tongue's tip press on the net of hair. He dug his head into his pillow as he pulled on the hole from either side so that the vagina gaped open.
The two women were facing each other as they "rode" Christopher's body. Wendy reached forward and continued her caresses of Jill's soft boobs. Jill closed her eyes, pumped even harder on her brother's dick, and licked her dry upper hp with her tongue.
She felt a spasm of pleasure pass through her back to be released with an involuntary shrugging of her shoulders. Her breasts seemed to be floating in mid-air and Wendy knew how to press her tits gently yet teasingly. If she were to let go and let herself "ball" another woman, this would have to be the time.
She did not open her eyes, but thrust her arms out blindly, reading the Braille of Wendy's young flesh. Her hands slipped under the girl's arms and squeezed her under her small waist, just where the hips flashed out into suppleness. Wendy moved within her grip, but the girl touched her hands with her fingertips and stroked them in gratitude for the embrace. Slowly Jill's hand relaxed and she followed Wendy's buttocks as they swelled out. She began to feel the magnetism of the bisexual girl's crotch, but for the moment she suppressed the urge to touch another girl's pussy, to run her fingers through the hair and the silky surface beaver.
Her eyes opened and she watched her new lover, whose provocative form blocked her view of her brother's face, which now began to twitch nervously as he came closer to orgasm. Wendy's mouth was open sensuously and a kind of deep purring had originated in her throat. Jill smiled at the way her pink cat-like tongue would flash against the corner of Wendy's mouth, moistening the unpainted lips.
Christopher felt covered with smelly cunt vapors. The two snatches were both working vigorously; the one jamming itself into his open mouth, the other jerking down sloppily on his cock. Wendy jumped off and straddled him as she moved down a few inches. He rubbed the outsides of Wendy's thighs as she sat on his chest, but when his fingers crossed over to play with her clit, he found his sister's hands already circling the hair patch.
His first reaction was one of pure shock; for a moment he was completely transported from any concern with sex and his cock ceased to move within Jill's quim. The idea that his own sister might be making perverse love to one of his own lovers repulsed him. But in the moments following, while his sister-unaware of his reaction-continued her strides up and down his pecker, the idea's impact turned to titillation, and finally, just before he started to shoot gism, he was excited by the image of the two beautiful women fondling each other's bodies.
His hands had drawn back to his sides where they remained until he had come. Now his sister was free to answer her own curiosity by testing Wendy's flesh. The clit was stroked deftly but with the lightness indicative of uncertainty. The index finger slipped easily into the cut itself and the twat muscle seemed to bite at it toothlessly, trapping it inside.
Jill's mind had wandered and she was now more interested in the terrain of Wendy's body than in the dong already stuck inside her. When Christopher did spring forward and ram home, almost ripping her to the womb, she was caught in his own anxiety. The tension released itself in her as she undulated wildly over the end of the stiff cock, delighting Wendy with the sight of her bouncing breasts as she came, the gism pushing through the vaginal tunneL
Wendy saw them come together and knew she could provoke herself to climax. Since the brother and sister would be tired when spent, she realized this would be her last chance in the next few minutes for her own orgasm. She doubled her hand into a fist and pushed the knuckles into the clitoral ridge. The pressure worked and her pud stuck out in front of her spread legs while she bent backwards, stretching her spine, gasping with each wave that spilled through the sopping pussy.
When all three had come the separate limbs of this three-pronged sex machine were listless and enervated. Christopher's cock was still stuffed in his sister's mantrap, but it had lost its size. Jill still stood astride it, her big tits motionless as her legs forked out and the semen started to drip from the hole down the insides of her thighs and on to the bed. Wendy, for her part, was exhausted, and the back of her hand, sticky and wet with her own oils, was spread out on Chris' bare thigh.
Slowly the three disentangled and lay stretched out-on the bed, thighs crossing breasts and heels pressing into calves.
"Not bad," Wendy said softly, as if to herself. "Not bad at all." Her voice was full of satisfaction-self-satisfaction and satisfaction with her two sex-partners.
That was my first time, you know," Jill said in response. There was awe in the voice, awe at the younger girl's power over her. It was the beginning of a conversation between the two women and Christopher felt rather disconcerted, as he did not know what he could say to participate. Wisely he remained silent.
But the thought of the two women making love excited him anew and he stroked Wendy's peach-colored thigh, pushing his fingertips into the hollow adjoining the pubic arch.
Wendy responded with a stirring; she stretched her arms out above her head as if she were waking in the morning. When she drew them back toward her chest there was new energy, and it showed in the way she pushed up on her feet and moved her torso so that Chris' hand would slide onto the beaver.
He found her damp, but already the pud had begun to dry. When he stuck his finger inside the hole, the muscles clung to the bone and the coating of lubrication had become almost flaky. She turned on her side and raised one leg over the side of his body while he went on petting her. She kissed him open mouthed and took her breast and pressed its tit to his hard chest.
His sister would have preferred, to remain quiet for a while, but she was not to be left out at this point. She stretched out beside Chris, touching the front of her body to his back. Her stomach wiggled against his lean, masculine butt and she ran her hand over his waist and then over the long plank which had already renewed to erection.
But she found that by holding the prick she was merely jabbing its end into Wendy's stomach. She made the most of this coincidence. The end two fingers found the labia and stretched the hole, pulling it toward the side. With her thumb and forefinger Jill aimed the prick's head to the aperture. "Hmmmm," hummed Wendy, licking her upper lip. "Thank you," she said, staring into Jill's eyes over the side of Chris' body just as the penis moved inside her, dividing her walls.
The young boy and girl fucked awkwardly on their sides, Wendy supplying what leverage there was with her foot, the heel of which jammed into Chris' calf. He galloped almost mechanically up and down the twat, drawing vaginal mist from the tissue and exciting her.
More exciting was the touch of Jill's single finger applied to her clitoris. The older woman rolled the flat of her index finger back and forth over the tiny patch of erectile tissue until Wendy felt as if she would burst. In reaction, her counter thrusts against Chris' prick became wild enough to hurt her by pulling on the outer tissue until it felt raw.
Chris had grown no more impassioned as he continued to force the dong up her snatch, so Wendy felt no real guilt when she moved back and bucked the insertion. When it slipped from her, Christopher's dick was polished with her internal sweat.
He was not sure what his response should be as Wendy opened her arms and drew his sister toward herself, so he did nothing. Even though he was erect, he had not been psychologically excited enough to get into the action with any spirit; perhaps this would do it. His sister crossed the obstacle of his body with her naked flesh, and she playfully rubbed her pussy flesh, from which his own come still seeped, on the outside of his leg as she came toward Wendy.
He stared at her ass as the two women embraced. Her rump quivered as she slammed the cheeks together, then let them relax. Both were on their, sides, but soon Wendy rolled over on Jill's stomach and the two of them bumped Chris. He moved back on the large mattress and watched intently as their lesbian love making progressed.
Wendy was not noticeably masculine even though she had been the instigator. She was leisurely as she moved her body silkily over his sisters. Their genitalia, he realized, could just barely be touching at this stage; they were just enjoying the non-sexual contact. Wendy put her mouth tentatively to Jill's, and the latter, with only the thought of reluctance, parted her lips and let Wendy's tongue inside. At the same moment Wendy's fingers pushed up against the underside of the older woman's jug and their breasts rubbed each other into nipple stiffness.
Strangely enough it was Jill who was the first to put her hand upon Wendy's pud this time. The four long fingers touched the triangle of hair, almost covering it The fingers held close together as she went from side to side over the externals of the quim and gradually the labia became smooth with a thin coat of moisture.
Wendy rewarded her initiative by sucking her areola. Mercifully her teeth did not cut into the tissue surrounding the dark-red peak which swelled on her active tongue. Saliva dribbled from the younger woman's mouth and streamed down the soft cone of the mams. She pursed her lips wetly together and sucked the tit just inside her mouth. The heat was being pulled from the cap into her lover's mouth and Jill, excited, stroked more vigorously at Wendy's snatch. Her finger at last invaded the vaginal sanctuary, poking at the tissue until it felt at home in the musky darkness.
Her own groin was anxious for digital massage. Wendy seemed to sense this because soon she put her right leg outside Jill's spread thighs and her left knee cap pushed up into her employer's moss. Jill grunted at the first indelicate assault, but by the time the second thrust came her whole body welcomed it with the arching of her spine and the snapping forward of her pelvis. Wendy moved the patella gently over the area, trying to manipulate the labia as gingerly as possible. Electricity seemed to surge through Jill's love button, and she hugged Wendy close to her, clasping her ass as the girl glided forward into the hollow of her body.
Desire made her daring. The fingers of her right hand dipped into the ass crack and felt the warmth emanating from the bunghole. She came closer, her fingers like moths teased by fire, and she felt the cluster of tiny muscle with the tip of her index.
Her nail rolled over the surface of the sphincter, but the thing did not give way easily. "Oh, yeah," Wendy whispered into her ear while Jill's brother looked on in amazement as she finger-fucked Wendy's rectum, Wendy's ass seemed to spread out, billow; it was as though Jill's manipulations had thoroughly relaxed her below tie waist
The inside of the ass-hole was itself like a claw of flesh around the older woman's finger. Jill twisted the bone inside the hole, afraid to draw it back to simulate anal massage for fear-instinctive fear, not based on the situation-that she would never be able to stuff it back.
Wendy was no longer licking Jill's tit, but she had begun to bite at Mrs. Brennan's neck. At first the nips were tender, but they grew more animal-like as both got excited; Jill yelped, whether in pleasure or pain Christopher could not tell, and he only knew that this appeared to excite Wendy even more.
Chris saw Wendy pull back from Jill's hand and there was a muffled popping as Jill's finger left the tight socket. He could not tell whether the idea to change positions had been his sisters or the girl's, but in any case both moved as if on some unspoken and unheard signal to the sixty-nine coupling. Jill was "on top"-that is, it was her mouth pressed to Wendy's cunt while she lifted her upper body on the girl's mouth, Wendy immediately teased her clit with puckered lips. Jill was on her knees, spread apart over Wendy's diaphragm, but her torso was curled so that her body formed an arc at the end of which was the worshipped pudendum. Jill licked furiously at the girl's privates, and her hands again clutched the globes of ass meat though for the moment Chris could not tell whether she had re-entered the back hole with her finger.
The room was still and the slurping sounds both made as they performed mutual cunnilingus were orchestrations to the pornographic ballet Christopher was witnessing. Blood raced through his belly and up his shaft toward the tip of his penis. He stared at them both, noticing even the slightest muscle tremor as when Wendy's legs drew up at the knees and her thighs pressed Jill's ears and the latter continued to tongue-fuck.
Christopher was conscious that he might be "interrupting" them, but his excitement pushed his powers of restraint to the background. At this moment it did not matter who he would stick himself into, in whose cunt he would dip his wick, but his sister's rear was the obvious choice; topmost, Jill's legs were spread far enough apart so he could rivet her from behind, and thus become part of the chain of fornication.
He parted his thighs over Wendy's face and he nudged his sister's hole away from the warm bath Wendy's tongue was giving by gripping his sister's thighs with his fingertips and pulling her up toward the end of his prick. Jill was drawing a spiral with her crotch upon and around her brother's dick and he did not know whether this meant she was anxious that he stick it in her, or whether she was trying to move out of range and then back over her female lover's lips.
He was never really to find out, for at this moment Wendy whispered, loud enough for all three to hear, "Put it up her ass." The notion stimulated Chris. He was holding on to her butt cheeks for balance anyway and it was an easy matter to separate them. Jill sank down again on Wendy's mouth, and he continued to hear the counterpoint of clit-sucking noises while he tried to push his prick to her behind. Jill pressed the insides of the globes lovingly to the cock, but it was the thing itself that was the problem.
Leakage of dog-water, however, oiled the hole, and he made it inside with the head on the fourth or fifth shove while he held his naked sister stable with his hands clutching her melons. The tits scraped at his palms as the breasts wobbled in his hands.
Jill groaned when he had succeeded, but she grew more comfortable with each forward thrust of the prick. His cock in her rectum seemed to explode the stomach from inside and it gave her a deliciously weak feeling. The feeling of emptiness around the cock-the emptiness of her belly-complemented perfectly the intensity of sensation in her pussy. Wendy rolled her tongue furiously around the rising bubble of red-purple flesh as the older woman's pubic arch collapsed over her neck, under the weight of Christopher's rectal screwing.
Bored with his sister's breasts, his hands went to the upper legs of the woman under her. When they came in toward the vaginal mound, the fingers threaded the pubic hairs until he had bearded his sister's chin with them. He touched Jill's tongue with his fingertip as she flicked the clit up against the thick hair. Chris could feel the tension, the taut energy as yet unreleased in Wendy's pelvis. The finger-bone competed with his sister's mouth in giving the housekeeper pleasure. Jill playfully licked his finger and he hid it from her by hooking it in to the snatch itself. His thumb caressed the corner of her mouth as she pulled in on the flaps. The two orifices floated wetly against each other, but both were coming closer to orgasm.
Christopher himself felt the semen being sucked on by his sister's shit hole. Being inside the anus was like being trapped inside a pressure cooker. He had little room to maneuver within this tight spot. Jill could not move much herself, but perhaps this was because
Wendy's sucking had speeded up and the younger girl seemed to expect his sister to come any second. He ran his hand between Jill's mouth and Wendy's pussy, separating the elder woman's mouth from the hole and proceeding to rub the frothy opening himself, stuffing four fingers inside at once-then, just as quickly, withdrawing them and smearing the moisture over the already clammy beaver flaps.
"Ahh...." The exclamation wheezed from somewhere deep in Jill's throat; her whole body slid straight up and down on the coed's mouth. The edges of Wendy's teeth ripped into the sensitive flesh. Moments later, while spasms of climax straightened his sister's body and her head snapped back on her neck away from Wendy's cunt hole, the younger girl came off on his fingers.
His own hips shook with the last few strokes before his climax. The prick seemed to grow bigger inside the anus and he twisted as he filled her. At last the globs of white goo pushed steamily out of his prick's slit and up toward Jill's stomach. The walls opened not at all to catch the sperm, but the juice merely clotted at the base of her intestine. Exhausted, Jill let her sweating face drop to the surface of Wendy's beaver, but instead her lips brushed the back of her brother's hand, still flexing its fingers over the pouting lips.
When it was all over and the three bodies collapsed onto and against one another in a heap of skin, muscle, and bone, the silence of the room was broken by Jill's hollow laughter. She sounded as though she were mocking someone or something, but perhaps she was mocking herself; certainly she was thinking of what she had missed by holding herself back from sexual relations with women.
"I think," she said, after the two had had time enough to be puzzled by the giggling, "that we should do this again some time."
CHAPTER TEN
Jill was almost obsessed in the days following by what she had done. The obsession was not a guilty one, however; rather, it gave her a terrific feeling of freedom, and the freedom appeared to make her a new person, or at least someone different from the woman she had been without it.
The next day was Wendy's day off and though she let herself wish she could hear from the girl, she did not, and did not think much of it. She allowed herself to fantasize the girl's other sexual entanglements, but she did this for pleasure because as we have seen, Jill's psychological composition did not include jealousy. If this had been so before she had tried bisexuality, it was even more true now; how could one be sexually monogamous if one was not even bound to one sex for bedroom pleasures?
Thursday, Wendy's next working day, was an easy enough one so that the issue of sex could not be avoided; the older child had that Monday been packed off to summer camp and the baby was at a day care "play group" for the afternoon. Jill had satisfied herself that the house was in order, so she busied herself with reading in the half hour or so before Wendy's scheduled arrival.
Her striped jersey and loose-fitting corduroy trousers made the girl seem somewhat smaller today; the top was not the kind of fabric to which nipples cling, and so even the generous breasts appeared diminished in today's attire. This in turn made the teenager seem even more youthful, but it gave her a peculiar ragamuffin charm that Jill could not ignore.
The smile that Wendy flashed upon entering the home's front room was decidedly innocent, considering what had so recently passed between the girl, her employer, and her employer's brother. She did not sit down and was clearly not going to presume that her relationship with Jill had changed; she was acting as if she were still merely a domestic employee.
"Sit down, dear," Jill said softly and with great friendliness, ready and willing to correct that impression. "Can I get you a drink?" She turned on her toes. "I don't even know if you do drink. Do you?"
Wendy's smile at this point was puzzled and not without mischief. She was considering whether to reveal a secret. "I do... sometimes." She paused; she squinted as she studied Jill's face. "Mrs. Brennan" here she giggled, correcting herself with "Jill"-"Have you ever 'turned on'? "
Jill Brennan greeted the question with an inward shrug. So many new experiences were opening up to her that the implicit admission by her housekeeper-lover that the girl used marijuana was not as great a shock as it would have been before the summer began. Indeed, she said to herself, what could she have expected of a bright, pretty, 'hip' girl in today's youth scene? Abstinence from pot, the nectar of the young, would have been as illogical and atypical as abstinence from sex-which Wendy clearly did not practice.
"No," Jill answered frankly, her excitement betrayed in her manner though she tried to conceal it with her voice.
'Would you like to?"
They had the whole afternoon ahead of them; Chris had driven to Bakersfield for the afternoon to visit a friend attending summer school there. Why should she refrain. "I don't know," she replied, restraining her courage. "Do you think I should?"
"Well, the thing about it is," the girl said, licking the corner of her mouth with her small, clever tongue, "it makes sex feel even better than it does to begin with." She sat back on the couch, relaxing as she waited for Jill's response.
"Well, I guess it's OK, " offered the older woman, and Wendy nodded thoughtfully, looking into Jill's eyes as she blindly drew her purse up on her lap and stuck her hand inside.
From it she withdrew two thin cigarettes-thin for tobacco cigarettes, but quite thick for ones rolled with grass; they would be referred to as "bombers"-wrapped in pinkish cigarette paper. "Cherry-flavored paper," Wendy explained, noticing that Jill was looking strangely at the reefers.
"Can you get me a match? I don't smoke, myself, so I can never remember to keep them with me." In a moment Jill returned from the kitchen with a fresh match book. She sat down beside Wendy while the latter struck the match against the book's slate and lit the twisted tip of the joint. She pulled in, and the tip glowed, but this smoke-being primarily paper-she quickly exhaled without drawing it down her throat
She handed it to Jill. "The best way is to suck some of it into your mouth, then draw in some more pure air and let the air mix with the smoke as you inhale it into your lungs-that way it's cooler."
Jill followed her instructions. She was tense as she waited for "something to happen," as she phrased it to Wendy, asking when the effects would be noticeable. "A couple of minutes, longer, it all depends on the individual; some people don't even get high the first few times. The best thing is just to relax and see what happens. That's the best thing you can do to help yourself."
It was amazing how quickly the cigarette was consumed to ash and Jill would not have known she was stoned unless toward the joint's end she fumbled and burned her thumb and forefinger at their tips. This made her realize quickly that her whole sense of the room and of herself had changed. She was frustrated by what she felt, because the only words she could find to describe it-had she been required to describe it-were the banal ones she had read in a hundred magazine articles on the subject. She felt that she was weightless, that her head might drift off from her body, and yet at the same time the slightest touch on her skin-as when Wendy's elbow brushed her knee as she took the cigarette back for her turn-seemed to be tattooed on her flesh with a branding iron; the "echo" of the contact lasted for moments afterward.
There was something, also of the "wooziness" of liquor. It was for this reason that she almost deferred participation when Wendy lit the second of the two sticks. But since the girl was "leading," she decided to follow upon command.
By the end of the joint she was no longer sure of her balance. "It's nice that we're both high together on the same amount of stuff," Wendy whispered, but the soft small voice might have been coming from across the room, amplified by a microphone. Wendy giggled: "Gee, are my peoples-I mean, pupils-as big as yours are?" The two laughed hysterically, grabbing on to each other's knees to hold their balance. "Peoples!" exclaimed Jill, laughing wildly.
The corners of her eyes were damp; she had laughed almost until tears. She listened as Wendy's lips moved and words poured out as if strung like beads. The girl's lips seemed, however, to be moving independently of the message; it was as though she were an actress in some foreign film and English words had been dubbed. The movement of the lips did not quite match the succession of syllables. "Do you want to go to bed?"
Jill was not quite sure what she wanted to do, but when her housekeeper touched her palms to the employer's knees, a chill went up Jill's thighs and it ended between them; her stomach filled with blood and she sighed audibly as her own breasts rose and fell on her chest, naked beneath the thin blouse she wore.
"Yes," and her throat felt harsh from the grass she'd inhaled. Her tongue tip, however, felt curiously cold as she rolled it-as if testing for sensation-against the roof of her mouth. She traced the insides of her front teeth with the tongue and then smoothed her dry lips with it.
Wendy was the first to rise. She spread out her arms and reached for Jill, then drew the older woman closer to her. They stood facing each other, close but not touching except at their hands. Wendy leaned forward and pressed her open mouth to the side of Jill's neck. The tongue at the very same moment felt like ice and fire on her skin and Jill's spine shivered until the tingle ended at the small of her back.
Wendy led her to her own bedroom and she followed-in tow as if she were a small child. The girl's hands were hooked around her waist as she set Jill down on the foot of the bed. Jill slouched, waiting for her next signal or instruction, but all she had to do for the moment was to watch her young lover undress. Wendy stripped as though the disrobing were itself a sexual act.
First she pulled her top past her tits so the ruby peaks stood out in the middle of creamy slopes of fatty tissue. The undersides of the rounded jugs made a small shadow on her nude diaphragm.
She pulled the waist of the belt-less trousers open and they loosely slid down her legs. Her twat hair clustered thick below the crotch of her panties, blue polka dots on sheer white rayon. She kicked off her tennis shoes which she wore without socks and she lifted her legs out of the cords. She was naked now from the waist up, and her breast flesh quivered as she bent down to remove her underpants. Her palms opened and she rolled the waistband downwards until half the snatch hair was exposed. She lifted one leg and pulled one side down to her knees. She almost touched her fingertips to the floor when she dragged the whole garment to her ankles, then stepped out of it.
"Now I'll help you," she said sweetly to Jill who sat motionless and zombie-like, her legs dangling off the foot of the bed.
Wendy kneeled and unlaced Jill's simple leather shoes. Her right forefinger followed the outer curve of the woman's sole and Jill giggled before Wendy withdrew her finger. "Roll over on the bed, baby," the girl told her and she did as instructed. The teenager's active hands massaged and kneaded the buttocks below Jill's skirt. The dress was short, so the fingers moved under the hem and poked under the rims of the panties, pushing into the crevice between the ass cheeks.
The panties came down off her legs, pulled by Wendy as Jill brought her calves up. She was naked below the waist now, underneath the skirt, and in a moment that had disappeared. "You can turn over again," Wendy told her employer and Jill's breasts rolled underneath a thin blouse that the former quickly unbuttoned down the front. Her impatient fingers, however, could not resist the impulse to spread out on the surface of the jugs while the shirt was as yet on Jill.
When she was fully naked Jill closed her eyes and let her lover's flesh sldm her own nudity. She knew the feel of the sharpened tit as it brushed her arm; she could follow the path of Wendy's twat hair as the girl straddled her thigh and bumped her pussy against it At one moment Jill felt nearly numb, but in the next she was especially sensitive to touch. As if in a dream she pushed her fingertips against Wendy's beaver and found the sweet scented hole.
Her hand made a dive under the pubic arch and her thumb hooked back and pressed the clit until it responded gamely, inflating under the rolling-pin style massage.
Wendy's hands were at the sides of her face and the fingers stroked her ears while the wrists touched her cheeks. "I wish I had a cock so I could fuck you," the girl whispered, "but I can still make love to you." With that she pushed herself down the bed and set her lips to Jill's aperture, still dry. She blew at the clit-blister, then washed it with her tongue; her index played with the outer strands of cunt flesh and finally it moved inside the quim itself, testing the heat and the unlubricated tissue.
She held the cavity open, pulling at the labia from one side while her wrist rested in the hollow of Jill's thigh, and her tongue snaked inside the box. The cunt lining was bitter and salty. Jill cringed in pleasure as Wendy's upper hp (and the teeth below it) jammed against the clitoris and sent a wave of excitement up through the woman's belly.
"Oh, thank you... thank you... yessss...." The words came sizzling from Jill's lips as her hips pumped out a steadily accelerating rhythm, wiping her moistening groin in the bisexual's face.
Wendy teased her by holding back the pressure of the tongue, removing it from the vagina and letting it slide through the hair down the arc, almost reaching the anus but stopping where the hair stopped and then drawing back. Jill's legs kicked up and out; the energy that coursed through her body was like electric current that had to send off sparks at her limbs.
Wendy understood perfectly the needs of the older woman. Softly she caressed Jill's boobs while rather harshly sucking her off. The ends of the tits were like nails pressing into the centers of Wendy's palms. The boob-flesh itself moved easily, like jello. Her thumbs stroked the shaded undersides and Jill brought her hips up off the bed in time to the beat of the teenager's tongue which pierced the nerves of the clit like a spike.
But Jill was not selfish. She reached between Wendy's thin legs and touched the source. Her index and forefinger slipped inside the started to finger-fuck the hole. At first the manipulations were simple. After the first half-dozen or so movements Jill instinctively varied the tempo; the walls by that time were already soggy with cunt moisture. When the fingers were covered inside the snatch to the first knuckle, she jabbed forward. Rather than hurting Wendy, the girl appeared to love it and she even rolled her pelvis from side to side to accommodate the full strength of the second-stage thrust.
Breathlessly, the girl put her lips to Jill's as though she wanted to exchange a kiss, but instead she spoke, softly. "Do you have something like a hairbrush?"
Jul was at first puzzled "Well, of course.... Over there on the bureau."
Wendy smiled brightly and sprang up, her oily cunt slipping back along Jill's straightened fingers. The labia seemed more distended than ever as the girl stood for a moment surveying Jill's sprawled naked figure. Then she turned and ran delicately-on tiptoes-to the dressing table. "Terrific," she said, speaking into the mirror. "You have two."
Jill permitted herself to wonder why it was so fortunate a luxury that she have two hairbrushes, but the doubt was solved when Wendy returned, one brush in each hand. From each loosely closed fist the long handle-one transparent plastic, the other an opaque pink-protruded. The objects were decidedly and undeniably phallic.
"You're going to...." She let the words trail off. Jill had never-particularly, not as of late-regarded herself as delicate in her use of language or in her sense of propriety, but this young college girl, older than her years, made her seem a tame suburban matron.
"That's right. I'm going to fuck .you." Wendy's tongue disappeared inside her mouth, the flash of pink out of sight as it pushed up against the roof of her mouth, but not before it had wet her upper hp which shone provocatively.'
Jill closed her eyes. Wendy's free hand snuggled under her back and the girl's fingers kneaded the soft-toned flesh beneath her neck. The tip of one brush-handle was skating over the beaver's surface. Her clit was grateful for the pressure that had been interrupted moments before, and already the walls of her vagina were waiting for the insertion of the plastic stick. Penetration was easy, of course; as long as an average-size cock, this fake prick was thinner.
Its size made it easy for Wendy to move it about once it was in her lover's quim. She dunked the handle until it was inside up to the bristles; the sides of the nylon brush tickled the labia. Impulsively Wendy twisted .the thing inside of Jill and Jill squirmed as she did so. Jill was sweating and her throat was dry. She was turned on and her whole body was taut as it waited for the thrill of orgasm; convulsive shivers passed through her spine and needles of heightened sensation seemed to stick in her belly just above the snatch. With each forward stroke of the handle Jill threw herself up to Wendy, and Wendy took full advantage of her passivity. Her own satisfaction consisted largely in the way her breasts flowed and crawled against Jill's rich nudity. She would get, she promised herself, her own satisfaction later, as soon as Jill had been fulfilled. This, she couldn't help thinking to herself, was old stuff to her, but she wanted Jill's first lesbian experience to be special.
At first Jill had tried to hold back from the impressions she was sure the marijuana had suggested to her, visual suggestions and mental paths she had never been aware of before. Now she let herself go, and that meant not only to feel Wendy's hands and breasts moving over her, but to see the girl, see her vividly, the blonde body against her own darker form, the whispered endearments, some of them coarse and crude, the way the girl's wet tongue soothed her lips and seemed to quench Jill's thirst.
Jill grunted as she came; the juicy insides of her vagina sucked in and seemed to her to be drowning the plastic prick. Her body was racked with spasm after spasm, after which she lay quiet. "I never believed it would be like that with a woman," she said to Wendy, who replied that "whatever way it can be with a man, it can be with a woman."
Jill sat up like a woman who has had too much rest and took the second of the brushes which had slipped halfway down the bed. She stroked the handle with her thumb as it rested in the center of her hand.
"I want the one I fucked you with," Wendy whispered handing her the used hairbrush. The plastic part was sticky with Jill's internal oils, though mostly dry. Jill smiled, and Wendy lay back. The girl spread her legs wide and brought her knees up toward her chest.
Her raw-looking cunt was just barely open like the narrow eye of a needle. A little oval of darkness was inside the rich red color of the pouting labia. She clutched the brush end of the utensil and aimed it at that oval; Wendy took it inside of her easily. Instead of raising herself off the bed, she instead dug her ass into the mattress and slithered a fraction of an inch down the bed to make the plastic hug the upper part of the vaginal coil. From the way she snapped her head eagerly from side to side each time Jill plunged forward, it was clear that she was satisfied with the imitated coitus.
Jill withdrew the plug all the way, however, and Wendy could not stop herself from squirming a little down the bed at just the moment the next forward stroke would have come.
This time Jill planted the re-oiled tool between the girl's perfect butt cheeks which quivered as the end of the poker punched the anal sphincter and quivered more vigorously when the hair brush ajttained entrance.
She could only penetrate to the point the brush itself touched the rims of the rump. Then she pulled it out and reinserted it into the waiting cunt. It slid into the warm harbor and again she removed it. She stuck it up Wendy's ass-hole and the girl's entire body twisted with the confusion of which hole was being filled with which thrust
Jill was conscious, aware, of the sex act at the same moment she was deeply involved; until this time, when she had smoked marijuana, she had been one or the other, but never both at the same time. She loved the way Wendy's body was getting more and more turned on. The girl's face twitched with each stimulus. The lips would press tightly together when Jill shoved the plastic up the hot thing and the mouth would fall almost all the way open when Jill filled the pussy. The mattress squealed; Wendy was jumping on her back, more like an animal in heat than a young girl
The only warning Wendy gave her that she was coming was when, near the end, she closed both of her own hands around Jill's wrist and forced her to hold the dildo inside her vagina. Her whole body thumped with wave after wave of orgasm that seemed to flow out of her through the pussy until she looked like a pale innocent on the bed sheet, quiet and uncaring.
Jill was smiling, and though she did not face Wendy, the latter could see the smile and could wonder about it. "Why are you smiling like that?" Wendy's voice, Jill thought, sounded almost suspicious. But she let her own defensiveness go by and she answered the question.
"I was just thinking what David would say if he knew I had slept with a woman."
Wendy leaned on her elbow. Her face was devoid of emotion and she radiated silence so successfully that Jill had to turn to her in surprise at the absence of some sort of comment or further question.
At this point Wendy had her chance. "What if I told you he already knew?"
Jill's heart seemed at once to explode with blood and bells tolled in her inner ear. The grass made her realize just how melodramatic the scene would appear to an observer, but it did not detract or ease her own anxieties.
"About us?" Wendy nodded, then clarified the point. "He asked me to and I told him I would."
"Why?" Jill was helpless as she asked the question.
"He said he wanted to go to bed with us and he didn't think he could propose the idea to you."
Though pain was written on her face more legibly than humor, Jill had grudgingly-and with an unuttered laugh-to admit that he was right; she would never have agreed to share her husband with another woman, no matter how much she told herself she hated him.
Somehow she had shielded herself from the real panic, but now it came. A current of real sickness filled her brain; had she been standing, she was sure she would have fainted. "Does he know-did you tell him-about Christopher?"
Wendy shook her head.
"Why? You told him you'd sleep with me."
"For one thing I wanted to sleep with you. For the other thing I hadn't said I had. He asked me and I said I'd try. Somehow or other, this afternoon, I'd have gotten around to that, to telling you. I never planned to hold back."
"You've slept with him, of course." Jill's voice was matter-of-fact and the tone almost convinced her.
"Yes. Does that hurt you?"
"I don't know any more."
"Do you want-to go to bed with us?" Wendy was offering David and herself as a unit, to which Jill would come. Wendy soothed the hurt by taking the woman's hand and placing it on her young thigh. "You are very beautiful. I want to make love to you over and over." There was a pause, a mutually held silence.
"Perhaps," Wendy went on, "it would help your marriage." Perhaps, agreed Jill, though she did not speak, ft would either help it or end it.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As they walked down to the cove at the beach, Christopher knew that his hard cock had deposited a wet blot of semen on the front flap of his jockey shorts. His balls felt heavy in their sac.
Lisa grabbed on to his arm and her fingertips were warm in the night air, which was cool at the beach, cool after a sweltering Los Angeles day. She stopped for a moment, then walked on ahead of him. Then they were on the beach and she held on to him while she removed her shoes. He kicked off his blue deck shoes easily and carried them in his hand to the small cove they had discovered weeks before. It was empty, though it never ceased to amaze Christopher how others had not found it, a secure and quite beautiful nest in which to make love-or something close to it.
As always, Christopher wondered how close to love making he would come tonight. He couldn't help but wish ruefully that Lisa would at least announce at the beginning of each date just how far she intended to go just to diminish the suspense which was getting to be the worst part of all. He had more than enough sex-real sex-with his sister; he was becoming almost satisfied with the teasing "almosts" that Lisa offered him. Still, each night he could hardly suppress the hope that finally she would succumb and let him put it inside of her.
He held her by the small of her narrow back as he assed her to the sand. He was unsure of his balance, but as soon as he'd settled her he released his grip and pushed his lips against hers. It seemed to him at moments like this that no one could kiss like Lisa Ferris, even his sister.
The edges of her lower teeth scraped the lip she had just moistened and Christopher was breathing hard. He held her tight, hearing the beat of her heart through her sweater pumping under her smallish breasts. He rested his hand gently over the boob as his tongue filled her mouth. She seemed to coo from deep down in her throat and her body was especially relaxed tonight-Chris had come to notice such things.
Even under the thin sweater he could feel the tit stiffen inside the cone of the bra. He put his thumb under the spot where the areola would be and Lisa moaned softly. She threw her head back on the sand and he kissed her neck as he slipped his hand, cold now with excitement, under the garment-it, besides the brassiere, was all she'd chosen to wear tonight.
When he could feel the nipple's stiffness, he pushed at it through the lace with his thumb. He pulled his hand back and then rolled the sweater just past the cap, a dark circle against the white. He breathed on the spot and thought he felt the goose bump-like prickles erect against his lips, but soon he licked the tit through the undergarment. Though protected by the bra cup, Lisa groaned when he bit lovingly at her, but she was softened when he opened his mouth wider and tried to suck all of the jug in. His fingers were probing her back innocently enough, but Chris wondered if she knew he was merely trying to get her off guard so that he could unsnap the buttons that would release the holsters.
That sound was almost an intense pleasure in itself to him when it came. She arched her spine and shivered. "You're cold," she whispered, almost inaudible beneath the louder sounds of the tide. "Your hands are cold," she repeated, and it was almost an accusation. He didn't stop, however, molesting her breasts, warming his palms instead against the red-hot coals at their center. The tits almost stung him as the hands massaged the breasts in circular patterns. He kissed her again, and this time her tongue moved quickly around his. He could always tell how anxious she was by the way she kissed, and tonight he was sure that she was anxious.
He had wasted enough time. He wanted to dip his fingers into her pussy, to roll the fingertips over the labia. He knew that his whole body would be stiff, waiting for the moment when her "No... no... no!" would turn from a disguised, breathy urging to an actual command that he would inevitably have to obey.
The jeans zipped down the side and his hand could slip in easily over her flat stomach. He pressed down with his wrist just above her pubic triangle. She rubbed her bare foot soles into the cool sand and her face was peaceful. For the moment she would let him continue.
The panties were just a little loose on her and the fabric swayed under his hand as he rubbed her belly as one would rub a magic lantern. He could not resist the urge to feel under the elastic waistband for the twat hair which he curled on the ends of his forefinger and index. He hesitated a moment before dropping down to the hole itself. He nudged the brassiere down from one breast with his teeth. He licked the flesh around the tit until he finally moistened the red peak into even greater stiffness. This time, when he rolled his teeth over her, he was gentle and did not hurt her.
The whimper that escaped her throat when he touched her clit with the back of his first finger was one of pleasure and not of discomfort. He bent the finger at the knuckle and then floated it gracefully up and down on the pimple until it had swelled to erection. His hand moved down between her legs and he seemed to be pulling the labia lips toward each other, covering the hole rather than opening it.
The first and second fingers separated and tickled the insides of her thighs just where the beaver ended, but they returned, the forefinger to continue to push at the clit and the index to dive into the virginal pussy.
"Uh...." The sound was half-moan, half-grunt, but Chris knew that she was used to his single finger. He let it fall all the way inside. She was flat, she did not move; it was as if she were afraid she would dislodge him or else suck him deeper and she wished to do neither. The fit was tight even for one thin bone. He jabbed the clit at the same moment the finger plunged forward. She was dry and warm at first and moisture greased her slowly. The difference between Lisa and Jill was surely the way they moved then-bodies. Lisa was stiff, taut, passive, but every so often an involuntary snap would reveal how much was going on inside of her. That, and the fever heat that coursed through her cunt. Jill was liquid as she brushed her body over his, a slope falling into the curve of a valley; she would pump her naked pussy right over the head of his dork until he ached to penetrate her and then she would taut him more with the wet caress of her tongue.
He kept his finger inside her, but he scurried down the sand to kiss her beUy. She was dry, though below his fingertip betrayed her inner moisture. He could smell the burning quim beneath the bush of hair. The muscle spread like jelly as he pumped her and he wondered if he dared to stick another bone inside. The tongue circled her navel and then scoured the depression itself; she hummed her satisfaction and Christopher took a small hunk of her belly-flesh between his front teeth and ground the enamel from side to side as his tongue spit moisture onto it while his girlfriend squirmed maddeningly under his mouth.
She arched her spine and lifted herself off the sand as he pulled the dungarees to her knees. The panties came directly after them, but these stayed at her thighs, just under the bottom of the beaver. A few ends of the curly hair stood out against the sheer fabric. He pulled his finger from her and wiggled the tip over the inflated clit. His left hand played with her right breast, kneading the flesh back against her chest until she murmured, "No... don't, you're hurting me." He stopped, cupping the tissue gently in his hand and rolling his thumb over the nipple. The texture of the tit was like chocolate pudding that hardened while he stroked it.
He teased her by kissing her stomach open-mouthed, but he ended the tease when his tongue slipped down the middle of the triangle and washed the protruding labia with spit. At the same time his finger reentered the quim and pumped her. As it seemed wider, he poked her with a second bone and the two fingers raced together as she shoved her body down against them as if she wished them to slide up her womb.
He covered his teeth with his lips and sucked in the swollen blister. He put his free hand under and grabbed her butt. He pushed up and forced her stomach up against his mouth. His fingers just barely touched inside the crack and the skin of her butt was warm in his tightening hand. He pressed his lips together and moved his whole head from side to side, rolling his face into the snatch and pushing down on the clit.
He withdrew his fingers from her pussy and squeezed the other globe with that hand, wet with her own moisture. He pulled her toward him as he scraped the button with his tongue, tasting her oils, smelling female odors.
He was shoving her lower torso up and down against his face with his hands and Lisa locked her naked thighs around his neck. He caught a hair of the beaver between two teeth, and she yelped when he turned his head to whip the labia with the edge of his tongue.
Now would be the moment; there was one moment on each date when the issue of actual intercourse came up-and up to now had been decided negatively by Lisa. He crawled up against her and brought his tongue over her lips, entering her mouth gracefully. He took her hand, lying lifeless on the sand, and led it to his crotch. He yanked the buttons open and started to let the prick out from within.
She touched it delicately with the insides of her long fingers. He pushed her hand together into a fist around the cock and a drop of come slipped down the flattened side of the head as her grip tightened. It wet the side of her hand and she pulled back, rolling the moisture back against his hairy groin.
When she was dry she refolded her fingers around the prick and started to work at jacking him off. Her hand was smooth on his skin; her long fingers pressed at the rounded side of the organ while her thumb struck the center of the stalk's flatter side. Each time she pulled the skin up, covering the glans, the balls wobbled inside their bag.
Chris pulled away from her, though it was hard to do so. His stomach ached and his balls were over-ripe with semen waiting to be ejaculated. But he didn't want to waste the orgasm on the surface of her stomach or to spill the warm emission on the insides of her thighs as he pushed into the yielding flesh and spurted.
He waited for a second, pulling himself up and letting the cock's underside rest over her stomach above the pussy. He tried to stall from coming then, and in a moment the danger was passed. He lowered himself, and as he did he kissed her. He reached down and wiped the head clean of the dog-water with his thumb. Then he pushed forward and touched her clitoris with it. She groaned, digging her nails into his arms through his shirt. She gasped, but they had done this a dozen times before, his bearing down on her button, fucking her clit.
He bucked his hips and when the dong came down, he was touching the hole itself. He reached down quickly and aimed the thing properly so it would only take one push to enter her.
He could read the agony of doubt on her face; for the moment she was not seventeen-going-on eighteen, but ageless. She seemed to squeal: "No. You can't. We can't," she added, correcting herself.
"Just a little, he said, uncertain himself as to the degree of his own sincerity. Would he hold himself back from shoving all the way up her and rupturing the hymen?
Usually she would shake her head vigorously at just this point. But it was the moment of delay between the question and its expectable answer (a hesitant "no") that gave Christopher his chance. He squeezed her buttocks in his hands and lifted her up toward the prick. "Just a little," he repeated, and while he held her up in his left hand, the forearm crossing both cheeks, his right hand was stroking the labia as he nailed the head directly to the small hole.
The first sound she made was a muffled scream as the penis ripped through the sides of the outer organ, but her pain was in fact mild: it was really what she feared rather than what she felt at this point that frightened her. She jammed her ass into the sand and the perforation he had just begun was ended.
"Promise," she said. Tears had formed at the corners of her eyes.
"Promise?" He repeated the word as a question, unsure of what she wanted.
"That you'll only stick it in a little way."
"I promise." His heart was beating even more rapidly at the thought that within seconds he would be-if only just a little way-inside her.
He bent the prong at its tip and then took the staff in his fist and twisted it so he could push forward without hurting her more than was unnecessary. This time her snatch seemed even warmer. He had no hesitation about going as far as the glans, but once he had she stopped him, complaining of the pain.
"And you won't come inside me." It was at the same time a statement and a question.
"No," he said, relinquishing that pleasure but glad that he had penetrated her. He watched as she closed her eyes and turned her cheek to the sand. He moved back and the walls folded back together so that when he came forward again she moaned her pain anew. Her cheeks were wet with tears of pain. She bit into her lower lip with her front teeth, trying to brace herself for the pain. His cock was so heavy with semen that he didn't know if he could keep his promise. He would have to spring back quickly and squirt outside of her. But he wanted to make the penetration last, so he sucked his stomach muscles back in toward his body and held himself still for a moment before continuing. Slowly he resumed; the twat hugged him, squeezed him. Her breasts heaved with her deep breathing. There was something transcendent about the pain that glowed from her eyes as they were drawn wide-as if in shock-as he stuffed the first few inches of the cock within her.
At first she was just a warm, placid body beneath him; it was as if he were floating on top of her, as if her considerable breasts were keeping him from drowning in the water below. He put his hand to her groin and his fingertips touched the side of his own prick. Her lips there were moist and feverish. The clit had swelled; as he brought the pressure of his thumb down on it, Lisa's eyes closed tightly and she savored the attention.
She seemed to jam her naked ass into the sand beneath her just as he glided forward in her damp socket; she was trying to keep him from completing the fuck, from rupturing the hymen totally-although a small pool of blood had already dripped between her sprawled thighs. Some grains of the sand moved inside the crack and tickled the inside of her buttocks.
"No," she said as he tried to dig deeper inside the quim than in the strokes before. The blood inside the torn pussy greased the tool, warmed the glans as he whipped the inside of the quim with his stiff rod. But still he was conscious of being kept at a distance, kept from fucking her all the way up to her womb while their genitals locked fully around each other.
He felt the first spasm under his diaphragm, deep inside his belly. The welled semen licked like flames at the base of his intestines. He wanted to drive the stake up her, impale her while the cream shot through the slit in the cock's head, but before the gism even leaked from the tip of the penis he pulled it out-did he imagine it, or was there really the satin-like whoosh sound that he heard?-and then, relaxing, let the juice splatter her perfect nude body, bleaching the pink and tan of her skin with the blinding whiteness of the come.
Lisa was crying; he knew it as soon as his orgasm had spent itself on her naked body. The come scaled the fleshy, hairless thighs and dribbles made their way down the slope of her belly to the surface of the thick beaver. Christopher was not sure whether her tears were of frustration, anger, or perhaps even humiliation.
He did not ask, as he found that by kissing her, rolling his open mouth and parted lips over her own-the tongues exchanging places-he could quiet her; he even noticed the arousal of her own drive that made itself known when she scraped his arms with her fingernails and shoved her sweaty pussy to his stomach, catching the now-limp dork between their bodies.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The motel room in Santa Barbara pleased David Brennan almost as much as it displeased Wendy. He liked the huge national chain-even though its top rooms rented for over $30 a double-because of the neat, clean, impersonal order of its cubicles. These were never a surprise in the slightest way and it was this that Wendy found so troubling about them.
She was not at all that fond either of the situation in which she found herself. Though not many words had passed between them, she realized she had begun to feel an almost mystical closeness to Jill-an intimacy which she had as yet not confessed to Jill's husband.
Wendy had prided herself on her ability to keep in some control of situations in which she played a part, but she was rapidly losing control of this one. For one thing, married men weren't her style. Young men-like Christopher-more decidedly were. Yet Brennan, with his adulterous assignations in motels, was good-she might even say terrific, were she pressed-in bed He knew every part of her body, knew where she was most vulnerable, knew how to turn on and keep her at a crazy pitch of excitement.
Just now, though, she was sleepy, sleepy from a large dinner in that fish-grotto in downtown Santa
Barbara. She heard Brennan showering, even heard him singing, but that did not rouse her. She had managed, before falhng to the bed and stretching out, to divest herself of everything but her bra and panties. She would leave the rest to David; she would be passive for this fuck-he would have to work for it if he really wanted her.
He was still drying himself from the shower when he came from the bathroom. Trickles of water dropped to the thick, newly carpeted floor. He was grinning widely and his eyes flashed a kind of athletic sexual hunger. Wendy inhaled deeply and her tits rubbed against the insides of the bra's twin cones, making the areolas' surface grainy in texture.
"Ready?" he asked her, flinging the towel to a chair behind him. She couldn't help but stare at his prick which was already stiff and erect , "I guess so," she said weakly, but her breath accelerated-the sight of a man's prick always excited her. He stepped nearer and his cock bobbed as he sprang toward her on the huge double bed.
"Did you have a nice time today?"
"Yes. Thank you," she said, and she let her hand pass over the tip of the organ. Without meaning to she spread a thin drop of semen on the side of her forefinger, then dried herself by pressing the bone into the pubic hair. "It was a nice day for a drive and I always liked Santa Barbara."
His hand was already over her pussy. The wrist pushed down on the bare flesh just above the overturned base of the pubic triangle. His palm moved through the weeds and his ringers curled together and then disappeared between her thighs which had tightened together at his slightest touch.
"Before we get started," Wendy said, turning on her side to face her lover, who had just reached behind her to undo the straps of the bra, "can I ask you something?"
"Sure," he answered, not relinquishing hold, however, and undoing the contraption so that her breasts fell out into his caressing hands.
"How have you been getting along with Jill?"
"O.K., I guess. She seems less cold. We went to dinner the other night"
"Did you fuck her?"
"Are you jealous?"
"No," Wendy replied, honestly.
"Well, I didn't," he laughed.
"Did you want to?"
"Look... it wasn't like that, you know what I mean?" His hands drew back. "Now let me ask you a question: are you making any progress with her?"
"About the three of us making it?" He nodded. "Well, I think we can get her, but we have to be patient."
Her lover seemed satisfied with that answer. Could Jill be playing hard to get? For the moment, though, he wanted to Watch Wendy the way she always was in bed-screaming and squealing, whispering, whimpering, clawing and love-biting, anxious for each punch of his cock up inside of her.
"I'm really tired, you know," she said, bursting the bubble as he reached with his right hand under the waistband of her panties, feeling the heat between her legs.
"Does that mean you'd rather not?"
She giggled. "No. Just that I don't feel very-active, you know? So if you could...." She dissolved once again into a giggle, but Brennan knew how to deal with her.
His hand slid down between her knees and separated them; her legs moved further apart, and his fingertips, stroking the hollows of her thighs, swam up until they were covered by her cunt hair. He pulled at one side of the pussy with his thumb on the labial fold and he put, his head to the clammy surface of the teenager's beaver.
He licked the clitoris until it was once again stiff. The mound had the salty taste of sweat and she smelled of feminine oils. His forefinger pushed between the twat lips and then rolled between the walls, pushing them further and further apart with each flicking gesture. He shoved his thumb tip lower inside the hole and held it open for his tongue. Frantically Wendy pushed her pussy up to his mouth while he sucked. Her arms were stapled to the bed at her sides and she was twisting her slim form as the tongue's tip drilled her like a sharp nail through the puffy clit.
"Lower," she said, squirming, pushing her ass up off the bed and balancing herself on her palms. Brennan knew what she wanted, but he teased her for a moment. His tongue pulled out from her cunt, but he used it as a limp switch over the hairy external skin just below the inch or so of flesh that separated her legs. "Ohh...." The word was half a groan, half a low, guttural grunts as she shivered, her whole body bending like a twig under the tiny weight of his tongue. She let go and almost collapsed onto the bed, but he caught her with his open palms, clutching her butt flesh with his fingers and squeezing the meat until she moaned with mingled satisfaction and pain.
At last the tongue gave her what she had begged him for. He pushed her cheeks back and her legs followed them as she started a somersault she would not complete. Her toes touched the pillow and her knees brushed her shoulders, while David Brennan pulled the globes apart and let his tongue race across the clit, past the ridge of skin, to the raw anal cavity.
The sphincter was clean and pink. The steady sweeping of his wet tongue tip seemed to relax Wendy, and as she relaxed, his prodding grew more intense; he wanted to work the tongue inside the hole, to taste the butt canal himself. She herself was pulling the cheeks apart, urging him on as the plush of the rump drilled itself to his face. His mouth twisted and his teeth rubbed the sensitive skin lining the crack.
Brennan's head bobbed up and down as he licked her. His tongue became anxious and wanted to stroke the crucial organ outside the pussy as well. He seemed to curl around the clit before zooming down across its surface and forcing it down against her groin, from which it sprang up immediately, harder than before. By that time, however, he had already slipped between her upraised legs-now locked around his neck, her calves touching his back as she tried to pull him ever closer toward the two holes-and he was moving the tongue like silk over the taut small muscle of the rectum. The thing was partially open now and he could slip inside and taste the musky-flavored lining of the hole. "Ohh.. .she sighed and her voice cracked.
Sweat poured from her forehead down the sides of her face; her mouth was wide open and she was gasping for air as he pushed her two cavities with the curled tongue. She had not quite kept to her promise of passivity; her whole body shook with emotion as he sucked her toward him, his mouth making the sounds of a madly hissing snake.
"Come," he whispered, his own voice dry as parchment as he turned his lips away from the pussy hole. "Come, baby, come," he repeated as if he were reciting a mantra, and he helped her toward climax by returning the tongue's tip to the ass-hole.
He felt her twat hair pushing against the front of his neck. She was hot and she wanted him. He burrowed inside the strangle hold and washed the pussy's surface with his lips, the spit juice spilling out over the labia. The saliva seemed to boil as it dripped on her folds. She crossed her legs on his back and quiver after quiver passed through her body and spent itself in the wiggling under his sucking mouth.
Her legs went loose and moved apart and off his body. He pulled himself up toward her face and kissed her with his open mouth, mixing the scent of her ass and cunt holes with the softer moisture of her mouth. His cock was still rigid, and Wendy tested this fact with her hand. She was not, however, quite ready to begin another bout with Brennan.
He took her breast and kneaded the flesh until the tit was solid and the nipple itself stood out sharp from the surrounding circle of deep color. His hands over her jugs were almost bruising, but she liked the masculine way he made love to her; in a moment he soothed the ache by rolling his tongue in a wide path across the red peaks; the sharp tit tickled his hp.
In spite of her own first reactions, she found herself becoming aroused. She took his cock half way down the stalk and squeezed it; it was as hard as ever and a little bead of sticky moisture pushed out through the stiff. He had kept himself back, but he was good for another coupling.
She wondered whether it was wise to try and suck him off; perhaps he was already too excited and would come too soon. But her own desires brushed aside other considerations; she wanted to move the insides of her cheeks against his stiffness, feel his pulse inside the tall, lean erection.
Her mouth on his dong was like a narcotic. His arms, which had been flailing wildly as he tried to touch every inch of her body, stroking her gently and roughly in alternation, now lay quietly at his sides. He was concentrating on the tongue bath she gave him as the pink snake rippled up the cock's side and stuck itself between foreskin and glans until the penis itself twitched in satisfaction.
She pursed her lips and then rolled them over the dome of the prick; still more of the dog-water leaked out and moistened them. She made a fist around the part of the staff that stood below her chin and as her-mouth opened to take the head inside, she moved the stick so that it was washed by one cheek and then the other. She was not too shy to use teeth on the organ, either; he felt the surfaces of the side teeth lock him in a tight grip, only to relax a second later with the side of her long, expert tongue soothing the marks she'd carved into the phallus.
At first Brennan had just enjoyed the feeling of being under the young girl's spell, but now, impatiently, he shoved his stomach up against her face to urge her to go faster, to suck harder. The cock slipped from her mouth, and the shaft smeared her cheek with her own saliva. Her fingertips passed lightly over the length of the dork and she tickled the balls inside his sac. She scraped the rough skin with her sharp fingernails, but this did not pain him, but rather excited him so strongly that he grabbed her face with his hands, his thumbs jammed into her cheeks just below the high bones and brought her lips to the prick's tip.
She continued to tease the testicles, but now she began to blow him in earnest while the small almonds wiggled within. Her wrist pushed between them, and they sprang apart; meanwhile she tickled the hollow of his hairy thigh with her fingertips. She covered the edges of her front teeth with her lips and pulled in on the beak; he groaned, the mucous thick in his throat. He shoved his stomach up, his ass leaving the bed, and she almost gagged on the head, now at the edge of her throat. She kept him from moving deeper by pressing her front teeth down on either side of the shaft. Taking the hint, he moved slowly back and Wendy licked the underside carefully, side to side, until only the head and most of the foreskin was still inside her mouth.
She ran her tongue up the line that cuts the underside of the head and she spread her spit over the slit, diluting the early semen already deposited there since the last time she'd licked the head clean. She took the scrotum between her thumb and forefinger, then yanked it down. A new surge of come spurted through his stalk and the head pushed against the roof of Wendy's mouth. She pulled in and more of the gism leaked out through the slit. She held the staff tight and began to rub it up and down quickly. His animal-like grunts punctuated her short, blunt strokes. She held him carefully enough so that her fingertips did not slide over the cock's sweating skin.
But she didn't want him to spend this way, with the combined blow and hand job. She wanted him to spray the hot come up through her pussy and she knew she wasn't quite ready. She lay back on the bed and her hand moved away from his perns up to his belly. She turned on her side and began to massage his chest. He sighed, content, his mind for the moment seemingly on other things beside sex.
When he seemed perfectly calm, she let herself reverse the process by leaning over him and letting her naked tits fall over his recently massaged chest Her tits were hard and they became stiff er still as they scraped his skin. She crawled a couple of feet up the bed and let one of the tits fall tantalizingly an inch away from Brennan's mouth. David bobbed his head and took the nipple between his lips. He curled his tongue back inside of his mouth and ran the lips dry from side to side until the cap ached with its swelling. Then he spread the lips and coated the red-purple circle with saliva. His hands folded around the jug itself and pushed the loose tissue together, meanwhile opening the mouth wider to let more of the breast in. He ran the edges of his teeth over the smooth skin until she pulled away and the tit hung, now wet, beyond his mouth, unreachable. She had reached for his prick and now she bent it up along her belly, then pulled it lower in the center of all that hair to the lips of the pussy itself.
"Don't you want to fuck me, baby?" she asked, but her teasing smile gave away the fact that she knew he did.
"Not that way," he said, grabbing at the sides, his thumbs folding just under the undersides of the boobs. He was pushing her up. "I want to see the way your tits bounce when I'm inside you," he said, smiling, and Wendy smiled in return, pleased that she could turn him on.
Her knees were on the bed, and her forefinger folded around the dome, inching him closer to the goal of her pussy. Lower down the shaft his hand was shoving the instrument between her legs. Wendy hunched her shoulders as she came down on the head of the cock. She waited for a moment as it rustled through her cunt hair and pressed at the labial folds. Then, for a moment, he felt her whole weight roll over the head and in the next second he was being sucked into the vortex by her hungry, thirsty pussy.
His penis cut through the dampening muscle until ah of it was covered by her twat tissue and their hairs mingled together where their crotches drilled into one. She bucked, bending her spine, and the cock touched the coil of muscle as she turned; some dew from the lining soaked his glans as she rubbed herself up against it. Now she straightened and pushed on her knees and he looked at the way her breasts moved proudly, surging up, the tips taut and sharp, while he could see the bottom part of his shaft soaked with feminine oils and shining even in the muffled daylight of the motel room.
As soon as she had gotten that far, however, she sank down again and covered him to the hairs at the prick's base. Her cunt lips glowered with her own sweat and seemed to invite him to push even further; he arched his spine and shoved himself as far up as he could go, and in response Wendy wiped her lower hp with her tongue, then drew the hp inside her mouth and bit hard on it.
Her shoulders moved wildly as she plunged down the cock; each shiver indicated the tempo of her feeling as she took him between her legs and snatched him up through the labia. The breasts flowed less gracefully, but that was the way Brennan liked to see her. The tits moved, stiff and almost disconnected, as she shook wildly. He was stroking her slowly, steadily with his cock, but that even manipulation was exciting her and she was asking him to come and end it-but he preferred it this way. Each time one of her pear-shaped jugs wobbled to the side of her naked chest, more of the fluid spurted up the line of his prick, but he held himself back.
She leaned over and planted her open palms on his chest. She was pressing down as if to revive him, to start him breathing. It was as if she wanted to shove come down from his neck and chest into the lining of her pussy. Her nails clawed him and she twisted her ass, running her cunt around the shaft and bending it away from where it arose from his crotch. One hand slipped lower to his thigh and she stroked the hollow there with her wrist. Her pinky curled back and scraped the scrotum. Meanwhile she thrust her pelvis forward and then pulled in on her vaginal musculature. She relaxed the clamp, but in the next moment he started to jump inside of her, spewing the hot seed while she shoved her pussy up and down his greased prick.
The come oozed down the walls of the cunt and then out through the distended lips of the beaver, dripping into the hollows of her thighs. The black lace that covered her cunt was frosted with the white cream, but he was still coming, holding on to her with one hand curved over her shoulder and the other clutching her left breast, squeezing it as the climax ended.
He lay completely flat under her, his arms stretched out above him and his fingertips touching the headboard. His cock was already limp inside her wet quim, but she did not rise up off it, keeping him inside of her for as long as she could. She even pulled the sides of the vagina together and squeezed the weakening member between the soggy lips. She made delicate patterns across his heaving chest with her forefinger, twisting the hair against his chest, prodding the nipples into new stiffness.
"You fuck so good," she said. "I wonder if you fuck her that good."
"Jill?" The girl nodded, and Brennan mused: "It's different with your wife. I know it shouldn't be and no man before he's married thinks it will be. But then boredom sets in and there you are."
Wendy spread her fingers apart as her palm rested on his sweat-dampened belly and she pushed herself up off his shrunken root. She leaned forward and lay down on her chest. Brennan smiled as his eyes followed the curve of her body, over the swelling of her rump. He put his hand on one of the globes and his fingers peeked into the crack, feeling the radiation of heat from her anus.
"That's why I want to have you and Jill in bed with me at the same time. I think-I really do-that it would help our marriage. Put a little excitement back into it."
"I don't know," Wendy said softly, turning over again to her side. Her legs were just barely crossed so that her lover could see just the hair but not the cut itself between her legs. "I think it might just turn into something you didn't bargain for."
"I'm willing to take that chance." His facial expression, however, turned quickly from intense seriousness to casual. "Do we have any cigarettes left?" he asked as he leaned over the side of the bed and felt the back pockets of his trousers.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Brennan and Jill had gone to bed early, not a half hour after she'd put the kids to bed. It was a few minutes shy of nine when the doorbell rang.
"Shall I answer?" Brennan sat up in bed.
"You're naked. I've got something on," she said as she slipped from under the covers and walked to the bedroom's threshold. She was wearing silk pajamas, red and orange designs on a white background. David noted to himself just how sexy she looked, her cute ass bobbing under the seat of the loose fitting silk. He could make out the anal crack, though, and that was what excited him the most, lately. He'd started out when he was younger as a so called "breast man," but now it was the ass he looked for first Wendy's ass, for instance. She could move it when she was balling, she really could.
He heard the two women in the living room, but the voices did not seem to be getting any closer. He strained to make out specific words but failed. His cock was already stiff. He tried to think, to concentrate, on a teacher he remembered from grade school Miss Danton, an old maid of sixty at the time. It was his usual way of shrinking himself down or of postponing ejaculation when he needed to. It worked again. The penis was normal sized by the time Jill entered the room with Wendy.
The younger girl was wearing soft blue corduroy slacks that cut close to her slim figure and a jersey top that did even less to conceal the natural curve of her breasts. The material adhered closely to the nipples, swollen under the fabric as the jugs swayed with her walk.
"Mr. and Mrs. Brennan, at home." The girl pronounced the names with a not so innocent smile. She seemed to be enjoying the situation. She looked at JiH. David studied his wife's expression. It was that of a woman who had agreed to go through with something and was resolved to do it without a murmur, no matter how uncomfortable she was.
Jill looked from Wendy's eyes to her husband's. "I'm new at this. Do you mind if I turn off the lights for a start?"
"Of course," David answered, easily agreeable, a man trying hard to please. He tried to keep the tension from his voice; he was excited.
Both husband and wife could see, even in the dark, the glow of Wendy's skill as she lifted the jersey over her head, hiding her face as the melon-shaped breasts flopped down, the tits pointing straight out, but the sweet, slow curve supple just above her diaphragm. Brennan had to hold himself back from reaching out and grabbing the breast; she was too far, and anyway he was staring as she pulled her panties down. He wondered if he was imagining it: was she savoring their attention especially tonight? She seemed to be the way she stuck her small, tanned tummy out as she rolled the sheer undergarment down over the tawny, copper hair. When she slipped the pants over her ankles, the pad seemed to sink back between her legs, waiting for the action she knew would come.
Jill, in the subdued darkness of the master bedroom, had gotten under the covers again. Wendy, as she stood naked at the other end of the room, was clearly the third angle of the triangle. It was strange, David thought to himself, how in a situation like this, the posture of marriage was as rigid as it was. Here were he and Jill, secure, their bodies touching under the blanket, waiting for a woman to make love to them both. Up until now he had always thought of it as Wendy and Jill making love to him at the same time, Now he realized that he and Jill were the unit and Wendy the outside force.
It was Wendy, standing at the side of the bed, who peeled the covers down toward her. She bent down and stroked his calf with her fingertips. "I've always liked his legs. They're very good, don't you think?" Jill laughed, agreeing, but he thought the laugh was hollow.
The young girl's nails were sliding up his thigh, and in a second he closed his eyes: they were scratching delicately at his scrotums. He inhaled deeply, feeling the rush of blood to the base of his groin. His legs closed in around the fingers and she twisted her wrist around, flicking at the cock's foreskin. Jill had come even closer, putting her face to his chest. Her tongue coiled between her lips and circled his nipple, then bore down hard on it. He loved it, loved the way she . rubbed her teeth into the tit once she'd wet it with the inside of her mouth. She sucked it and ran her knuckles along his belly just below the navel.
God, the come was clotting under the base of the prick inside his balls! Wendy's ass touched the side of his leg and she was tracing the cleft in his chin with her forefinger. As she bent to touch him, her breasts brushed his arm. He reached up and curled his arm around her neck. "Why don't you guys move in and give me some room?" she asked playfully.
Jill immediately rose her mouth from his areola and moved to the side of the bed on her ass. Brennan rolled over, following her, and Wendy stretched out on his other side. She waited for a moment, saw Jill take his nipple in her mouth again, and she imitated David's wife, putting her lips to the other tit. She was rolling the flesh over his chest and her fingertips felt the electricity of Jill's touch when she stroked the latter's hand with her own. Jill drew back, instinctively, but Wendy's fingers were unashamed and folded between Jill's. The tips pressed the back of Jill's hand and Jill relaxed.
Brennan rubbed his ass into the mattress. Both women were concentrating on his chest and their hands went no lower than his stomach, but he was getting so hot he could hardly keep from pumping out a steady beat with his buttocks. He wanted something warm and wet to stick his cock into and he got his wish a second or so later when Wendy started to work her way down his body. Her mouth was half open and the edge of the tongue streaked along his hair-lined skin, tasting his salty sweat. For extras she let the edges of her lower teeth sink into the muscles.
This was even better than he expected, thought David, because now he realized what was happening as Jill slipped her hand under his waist and grabbed a fistful of his ass. They were competing! Which one would be the better lover with all the stops out? He could get them both to do the most incredible things-Jill would overcome all the inhibitions that kept her from really giving.
She was tickling his ass-hole with her fingernail. She was deft, light. Her other hand was massaging his stomach and the fingers twirled through the curly hair. The red nails showed through the black wires. She went lower, pulling, tugging on the scrotum, rolling her thumb over the base of the stalk. Meanwhile Wendy had just gotten to the cock itself and she was planting her soft, warm lips on the bulbous head. The pink folds parted, slipping over the dome, already moistened by a drop or two from the slit. The teeth grazed him only slightly, but her tongue was like satin as she flicked it on the flatter side of the dick.
Jill had one finger just up against his shit hole, but the other was yanking on the skin that covered his prick. She was pulling it from near the bottom of the shaft, a couple of inches below Wendy's sucking mouth. The younger girl was moving her palms in circles over his pectoral muscles and his tits were on fire with the friction even though Wendy's hands were moist with perspiration.
Jill tried to stuff the first joint of her finger within the anus and he squirmed to let her do it. She squeezed the cock with her other hand and the thumb rustled on the scrotum. She was kissing his shoulder, opening the lips and sliding her teeth on the curve, and in the next moment her warm tongue was under the arm, in the pit, whipping through the hair and his sweat and driving him crazy.
He could only reward her indirectly, though, through Wendy, because he took both hands and tried to squash the young girl's head down on his stick. Her teeth glided down and her tongue followed until the thick head blocked the entrance to her throat and she snorted for air. His fingertips rubbed the sweat on her scalp and the hair was bunched thick with her quick perspiration. The sides of his legs came in close to her body and he jammed her buttocks close together with his knees.
He couldn't believe what his own wife was doing with her mouth. She was making the most delicate love to his hairy armpit, tweaking him with her rolled together, puckering lips, at the same time she caressed with her finger knuckle the areolas she'd made moist with the same facile tongue.
Now he tasted his sweat on her tongue. He tried to curl his own around hers as it fought him, two snakes tangled in one joined mouth. She was perfect, her lips squirming over his and covering it with the gloss of her sweet spit. He stroked her back, following the curved line of her spine until it ended just above the crack in her ass. As he looked over her shoulders, the two cheeks seemed oddly small, like a little girl's rump. He couldn't resist squeezing one into a compact ball of pulsing girl flesh. He twisted the muscle until she groaned. He'd pulled his legs up toward him, around Wendy's naked form, and when Jill shot all of her index up his ass-hole, he lifted his rear from the bed and pumped his prick into the teenager's soft, wet mouth-but his speed distorted his aim and the throbbing muscle jerked into her briefly closed lips and battered at the side of her nose before she backed off and bent it to her tongue.
Jill's hand ached and the finger was dry with the musky thing. She pulled the cork and rolled finger over Wendy's nearest cheek at the comer of the young girl's mouth. Wendy took it in, indiscriminately, sucking at the bone and lathering it with her saliva.
Jill pulled back quickly and reinserted the finger.
The rectal passage opened easily this time to admit it and the moisture made the way almost slippery. He'd gotten used to the friction of the bone inside his male hole and he liked it. He ground his hips out while she delivered simple stroke after simple stroke. The finger was still, however, for a moment, and she did not answer his rhythm. He noticed that, without withdrawing her forearm from under his behind, she was curling her body into a parenthesis and moving her face lower toward his waist.
Her open hand was pushing him on his side. Wendy, complying with a signal that he, in his excitement, was just barely aware of, moved back a foot or so. Her index finger scratched the cock's underside while the forefinger curled over the part of the tube just beyond her lips. She was holding him inside as he followed her. When he felt Jill's teeth slash into his cheek, he understood. She inadvertently, sloppily licked the uncovered part of her own finger as she tried to ream him. She coated the top of the crack with moisture, went just barely inside the heated enclosure and whipped the tongue's end between the two balls of his ass flesh.
She bore down on the peritoneum with her moistened thumb just as she swiveled her digit out of the rectum. She clasped hands on the solid buttocks and held the crack open, moving inside with lips, tongue and teeth. She was hungry, sucking, biting, licking. He was being sucked two ways now: like a man on Wendy's side, with his crazy juice being pulled up the long cock, like a woman, with his own small hole being scoured, the lining being pressed so that he could feel each new sensation in the nearly virginal pit. Jill skillfully massaged the small space between the end of the wrinkled ball-bag and the start of the anus. He could hardly tell what he was feeling; it was too intense. He felt literally separated, as if the atoms of his flesh were coming apart and floating into the mouths and throats of his two lovers, the teenager and the mother of his children.
What could he do for them? He knew his responsibility as a lover, but he'd never known it before as the lover of two women at once. And the intensity was such that he was almost paralyzed. Wendy was slurping on his dick as though it were a snow cone with all the flavor at the bottom and she couldn't keep her hands off him-off his pubic hair, which she threaded on the ends of her fingers, off the hollows of his thighs, off his scrotum, which felt like wax melting.
Jill's body slowly relaxed and she stretched her legs behind her toward the head of the bed. Her toes were inches from her husband's mouth. He stroked the curve of her sole, rubbed the space between her big toe and second. With his wrist he ran down the smooth side of her calf and in pleasure she kicked the foot behind her, reacting. It made the round bowl of her pink-cream ass ripple with movement.
God, how he loved her ass! He massaged it and she arched her spine approvingly like a contented cat. His fingers poked bruisingly into her waist just above the hipbones, pulling on the belly flesh. He wanted to lick her ass hole and he tried to make himself move toward it. His tongue, thirsty, was already beyond his lips, the edge turned up like the mouth of a hungry garter snake.
He tried to twist himself almost full around, but Wendy wouldn't let go of his cock; as he strained, her teeth came down hard and pressed the stiff board. He grabbed her by the sides of her face and raised her up. Her lips were still puckered even as they slipped off the bulb; she was reluctant to let go.
He was free, and as Jill had less hold on him, licking only the flat surface of his rectum, he could turn around easily. She was puzzled, but she waited as he sat up on his knees, kneaded her behind and opened the crack. One drop of saliva dripped from the end of his tongue before the tongue tip itself hit her perfect ruby-colored hole. His right hand let go of her right buttock, and the fingers touched his chin as he aimed them between her spread legs, just below the sopping, soaked pudendum, just below the curled ends of the pussy hair, and shot them into the easily-divided folds of her twat.
He fingered her roughly. His bones, the index and the forefinger, were already most of the way inside when he shoved hard at her, and she bumped her cheeks into his face. He was instinctively afraid of pulling the fingers too far back and so she felt all the time the pressure of the digits between the cunt's walls coated with her sex oils. She wondered what she smelled like. She'd been careful to clean carefully every orifice of her body so that she was immaculate, ready for any exploration David or Wendy might perform. But whenever she moved she seemed to catch a sniff of herself and the odor was the sexy stench of a woman who'd been fucking all night with no douche in between. But Wendy smelled much the same and she knew that on the teenager she liked that odor, liked to smell the excitement of her slim body even as she tasted and stroked it, and maybe Wendy-and even her usually meticulous husband-felt the same way in the heat of the moment.
Wendy crawled over toward Jill's head, leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. It was a long, slow kiss. Wendy thought she could tell from the languor Just how moved Jill was by the attention David was paying her ass-hole. It was an excitement beyond frenetic movement and counter movement, and indeed Jill felt it deep in her stomach like the warmth of brandy on an empty belly. Jill was enervated, passive, her mouth an open hole for Wendy's tongue to pass through. But Wendy needed her tongue and so she threw her arms back, lifted her ass off the bed, and slipped the groin under Jill's lips. Jill had no choice but to stroke the clit blister while Wendy threw herself up against the lips and massaged her own breasts with her right hand. The girl tweaked mercilessly at her own tits, wild now, throbbing, aching to come inside her female lover's mouth.
David's fingers twirled inside the over-lubricated , cylinder of tissue that was his wife's cunt. The only taste he found was that of her skin, made salty by sweat that dripped in rivulets down her back and finally into the cleft. He licked at the base joints of his own fingers, though, and sucked the tangy froth from inside her pussy. When his fingers pushed in on each stroke he was pulling at the enormously inflated clit, the size now of a pearl, pink, purple, greased with woman juice.
He wanted to make her come. She seemed greedy, needing him to keep on with the oral love making, not yet ready to spend and satisfy herself-and him, as he would watch her ass moving, floating, punching down on the hand and the bed. He loved to watch Jill come, always had. When she came, the orgasm was always so complete, reflected in the sweaty ecstatic expression on her face as the lips came unglued and the tongue lay just inside, unanchored, the mouth wide open and the whole body contorted with the rhythm of the fuck, wrenching her.
The two fingers inside her vagina slipped out with no trouble. He wanted to shake the hand of all the moisture just as he'd shake his whole body after a dip in the ocean. But instead he rammed them into the shit hole, more fiercely tight than the pussy, but ruptured quickly enough. The inside of the rectum absorbed the juice like a sponge and he rubbed the lining as the fingertips moved and stretched the hole near its end.
He was convinced, as she began to bounce and shake with the climax, that it was the fingertips, prying the end of the tunnel flesh, that had sent her into the coming itself. Not that it mattered. She was thrusting her pussy flesh onto the bed and the sheet was giving the clitoris all the friction she needed. It was dry linen and her pimple was bathed in lubrication. Her thighs flapped together, holding a fold of the sheet between her legs and the white covered all of the hair. She was moaning, keening softly even before the orgasm had drained, even while she undulated anxiously with the fingers buried deep in the thing. She clamped her buttocks together so tightly that David could feel the circulation stop in his hand, cut off just at the wrist. The hand was hostage until she slowly came to the end of her satisfaction and her body seemed to grow flaccid in his hands as he stroked her, prodding her on to the very last.
Now, all that Wendy felt on her cunt was Jill's warm, wet, but unmoving open mouth. She pulled herself from below it and looked at David, who was resting on his side, chin in hand and elbow on the bed. His cock was blushing bright pink and it was solid, the veins straining to carry the blood that moved the sperm inside. David smiled as he saw her assess the prick's readiness. She came closer and her legs were like scissors, covering for the briefest of seconds the dark hair at the vertex of the angle they made.
"Well, at least we don't have to worry about the preliminaries, do we?" she said, flexing her forefinger just under the glans and pulling on the prick. He'd already leaned forward, and when his hands touched the sides of her chest, she relinquished her hold on the penis and let him force her to the bed, supine under him.
Her passivity didn't last long. Her thighs rubbed his outer legs and her ankles hooked behind his own. She stroked the backs of his calves with her heels as he tried to place the prick's head within the labia and then the hole itself. She couldn't keep from pushing in on the groin area, masturbating herself, as she spread the lips to open herself for him. The relief she felt when the muscular joint entered her was enormous; she felt a tingling in her tits which were already hard.
Jill had barely enough energy to watch them, but she did that. She felt she couldn't move until all the sweat on her skin had dried, until she no longer felt half drowned. She watched the look of pleasure that crossed David's face as the head of the prick disappeared inside Wendy's hole and he grabbed at both of the teenager's tits as if to balance her on him.
Wendy looked over at Jill and flashed her a wide smile. She threw her belly out and twisted on David's prick; he gasped while she lowered herself down more simply. The lips seemed to follow every minute change in the cock's shape, hugging the glans with moist, warm lining. Jill touched the labia with her forefingers, stretching the hole as she glided down, and their pubic areas meshed together, his darker hairs weaving into her lighter growth.
His thumbs were sliding just under her tits in an arc. He did not touch the areola, but merely teased it, drawing half circles under the brown. Tiny goose pimples of erection swelled inside and the nipple itself was like a punishing nail when he raised the flat of his index finger to scrape gently over it
She'd gone all the way down on him, covering his whole bulk with the inside of her pussy. Jill could see no sign of the pecker, just the straight line at the top of her pubic triangle and the satisfied look on Wendy's face. The young girl coated her upper hp with spit from her curled tongue, then rolled the tongue tip against the roof of her mouth. David was breathing heavily and Jill saw the ripple of movement as he started to raise his hips under her, wanting to prod her into rubbing him with her cunt. This time Wendy wasn't pliant; she seemed to be enjoying having him all the way inside. She leaned forward and opened her palm under her left breast. She was urging the swollen tit on David, pointing it toward his mouth. His spine curled and his tongue stuck between his lips as he aimed for it. "Aaah," Wendy oozed, then inhaled so deeply that her jugs rose on her chest. She thrust her pelvis out and in this way gave David more of the friction his ass muscles were begging for. He squeezed her buttocks, drawing the twin spheres apart and exposing the shaded crack between. This made her ride her belly further up against his cock and he shivered, kicking his ankles out at the sides of her legs.
Wendy rolled her palms up against his chest She was testing the hard muscles, rolling the skin of her hand up against the nipples. Her fingertips came down above his tits and her nails scratched the tanned surface; Jill heard the sound above the heavy breathing of both copulating partners. The blonde rolled her upper torso almost into a ball as she put her mouth to David's breast. He sighed as the tongue first hit the circle, then grunted as her teeth glided over the surface. The tongue was predominant again in the next second, soothing the area as it excited him beyond imagining. It was beautiful: he felt as though he were drowning in her mouth, sucked between her thick, sensuously twisting woman's lips. Her tongue, flagging endlessly, soaked him; he was sweating profusely, and beads of perspiration moved from his hairline down across his forehead, dropping to his cheeks as he bit into his lips with his teeth. He folded his hands around her shoulders, one finger and then another poking under the joint and touching her own sweat on the nearly hairless skin.
Wendy's body throbbed. She jammed her breasts into David's belly, rolling herself on him with the raging force of a sex-starved madwoman. Her knees were forced up against his thighs and her body felt the strain of the position as much as it did the excitement that resulted. Still, he was deep inside her, and she wriggled happily against the stalk, the lips feeling the hard and veiny root of the organ. She opened her hand and spread the fingers around the side of the cock, her thumb disappearing under her spread twat. The blood rushed out of it and the flesh paled as she pushed down with all her might against him. Yet he could hardly feel her as the blood and come moved through the penis and the whole organ swirled with the sensual haze that precedes orgasm, the feeling of giddiness that traveled through his belly and down through his thighs.
Jill felt herself aroused, felt the impetus of movement in her limbs; she was no longer the least bil tired. The two bodies, pumping away, were surrounded in her eyes by a kind of glow that radiated as they moved, flowing into each other's skins and muscles. She wanted to be a part of the movement, the flow ol desire. She stood on her knees, her ass touching her heels before she rose and crawled, one knee at a time, behind Wendy. Gently-so gently that Wendy barely realized what she was doing-she put her lips to the girl's rounded shoulder, and pushed her own pubic wool between the crack in Wendy's ass. Her tits touched the blonde's backbones and she threw her body wildly from side to side to maximize the friction. Stimulating herself in this way, the tits grew peaked like the ends of ripe lemons. She felt a thin dew spread through the walls of her cunt.
She reached around and dug her fingertips into Wendy's pelvis just above the hairy opening where her own husband's cock had been lodged for so many minutes. Wendy gasped, her attention finally drawn to Jill. The inside of the greasy pussy was convulsed the walls dilated around the phallus, leaving it stranded inside a misty cavern for the moment it took for Wendy's fingers to push between Jill's and grip them in response. Wendy participated in the manipulation herself, and as the sides of the chasm closed again around David's sex, the two sets of fingers clawed a the soft, nude flesh, pulling on the external beaver and making the inside tug just slightly on the tube-shaped organ that penetrated the blonde teenager.
Jill's legs were spread out over Wendy's calves ant she took one hand from the girl's hot pelvis anc rubbed the soft sun-colored down that ended only at the teen's slim ankles. But now, she realized, she wanted David, wanted a man. A woman could excite I her, but nothing could satisfy her totally like a man's love making.
She got up and landed at the side of the two joined bodies on her elbow. She heard Wendy half talk, half moan, to David: "Oh, come, bh, yeah, baby, come.... You come so good in me. Why don't you come? I love it when you come; I need you to come...." She was just barely coherent, each word interrupted by a sigh, a scrape of the breath against her raw throat, but Jill could tell her words had excited David, who was pushing harder. With each thrust, though, Wendy seemed, in response, to swivel up higher on the pole, almost losing it from the sucking grasp of her twat lips. Her body was performing a wider arc with each of David's ever bolder forward strokes up the oily tunnel.
Behind David's head, Jill, still on her knees, faced Wendy. The blonde was writhing almost out of control as Jill touched her mouth to David's and kissed him I sloppily, their tongues colliding while the lips remained spread wide. She rubbed his upper chest with her fingers and the nipples erected quickly into stiffness. He cut into her lips with his teeth, but she didn't mind; she was unconscious of any pain, aware only that she wanted him, needed him. And was jealous, too-she could admit to herself, suddenly, that she was indeed jealous-that Wendy had him locked in her own wet vaginal socket.
He gripped her forearms tightly with his fingers, but he let her hands move, caressing his chest, though he stroked her wrist with his thumbs, feeling her quickening pulse as she pushed her breasts into the pillow, feeling the nipples float into the softness.
She could feel all the energy in his body, even in his chest, where the muscles were hard and tightened-and in the way he kissed, wild and frantic and hard, needful. His lips drew into his mouth, taking her tongue with them. Her fingers probed deeper, toward his waist, then-as his hands released her-slid down to the groin, just above where the coupling started, radiating heat for inches around the place where the cock sank into the bush hair and, beyond it, the steamy cunt. He giggled deep in his throat as if she were tickling him. She pressed into the skin, pushing the curled pubic hair down. As he jammed Wendy with his phallus, her fingers were deeper into the tissue and the flesh rolled against the fragile cartilage below. The orgasm, seconds away, was telegraphed to her fingertips in shivers; she could feel the sensation not only as release of sexual tension, but emotion. She was almost blinded, and for a second she felt what she'd heard described as the leap of the heart into the throat. Hot tears came to the corners of her eyes, yet her mouth-on its own, automatic-continued to move with David's, tongue against tongue, hp slithering over lip. She knew what jealousy was. It was an awful feeling, really, and there was no justification for it, but it was inevitable: it was resenting the happiness another woman could give your man-because it was happiness you could be giving him.
The bed-for the first time she was conscious of the movement-began to rock as David surged into the girl filling her, squirting come into the thirsty pores of her cunt muscle. The springs wheezed and the frame creaked, cutting into her nerves as she saw on Wendy's face each new burst of white liquid that pumped out the bulbous, slipping, sliding cock. Once he had started to spray the gism, he had grabbed for her-Wendy-pulling with his fingertips for her stomach, jabbing and poking at the indentation of her waist.
Even as she rose up off the phallus, Wendy grabbed at the part of the hose that remained outside. Her fist clenched tightly on the hot stick, coated with the sweet slime of her woman and the semen each new stroke spread more thin on the red-pink inner walls.
The climax seemed to go on forever, it seemed to Jill, who felt the misery of envy more strongly than ever before, in her entire life. She was jealous of the climax, as jealous as she was of the girl. She kissed David, rubbing her tongue over his lips, touching the tip to the enamel of his teeth, but he responded as if in slow motion. Her tongue around his was like a slippery ribbon that refused to tie; in its tumbling it touched the parched roof of his mouth, his moist inside cheeks, the corner of his half open mouth. He was breathing through his mouth as well as his nostrils now, and she felt the warm, heavy air assault her chin and nose as the orgasm came slowly to a grinding, taut-muscled finish.
"Mmmmmmn," was the first thing Wendy said when it was all over, that cat-that-ate-the-cream expression all over her face. Her lower torso still swiveled slowly, shaking the tree for the last bit of juice, but Jill knew her husband well enough-his eyes were closed, his lips drawn together, and the muscles of the face were in total relaxation; he had finished, and there was no more. His cock had probably already grown flaccid inside the soggy matrix of seminal emission inside the teenager's pussy. Not that Wendy seemed hungry yet for more: rather, she was savoring the last moments of his penetration.
Finally, his fingertips touched her diaphragm, just above the jutting bones of the pelvis. He was signaling her to move away, to release, and she stretched up. The hose, still thick but no longer rigid, slipped easily from the vise.
Anxiety clouded Jill's mind. She doubted whether David could come again, but she needed him inside of her, needed to excite him, to prove that he still cared for her.
She waited until his breathing had become completely normal. Wendy had curled up along side of him, her small but voluptuously proportioned body twisted embryonically. Almost absentmindedly she stroked his thigh, but came no closer than that to the penis itself.
She had held herself back as long as she could, fearing that David, exhausted, would somehow reject her, at least delaying her. She stretched out at his other side, her body even with his. Her hips touched his. She tightened the ass muscles and arched her spine. With her heels pressed firmly into the mattress, she moved her side tantalizingly against his, exciting goose pimples on the surface of his skin.
Jill sank back into the bed and raised the leg closer to him, bringing the ball of the heel over the calf bone. She straightened her leg and her own calf touched his. She brought the leg back and then rolled on her side so that her ass, still touching him, was open to his vision. She felt a wave of relief when he put his hand on the buttock. She'd been right in calculating that would excite him. She would have him up her tight ass pussy, have the goo deposited at the base of her stomach, the heat spreading through her like fire as he came.
His index finger smuggled into the crack and the tip played teasing games with the solid ripple of anal muscle. He stroked her and the sweat from his own hand eased the way. His forefinger pushed in, and the two, on either side of the rectum, pushed down to spread the orifice apart. Jill felt a tickling sensation that buckled inward, up to her stomach, and at the same time rose to the base of her spine. David, becoming aroused, nibbled wetly at her shoulder. His lips pursed, and then he kissed sweetly and closed mouthed the flesh he'd moistened. At the same time the index was prying open the hole, twisting and scratching against the hot lining of the ass twat, scraping the thinnest film of shit from inside her aching, throbbing rectum.
He could feel the whole weight of her body shift and turn with each flex of the finger bone. The musculature seemed to slide along her bones as potatoes move in a sack. Wave-like, she responded to the artificial pulse of his finger fuck. She reached behind her and squeezed the prick near the bulb, fat and hard and sticking proudly from the rigid bolt. He was shoving the phallus-head against her upper leg just below the curve of the globe's underside. He kneaded the other buttock, pulling it from the matching sphere. Her bowels tingled and only his fingers, crawling under the hairy arch, reminded her how clammy she was along the surface of the primary sex organ.
Her fingers crumpled the pillow, her nails biting into the linen case. She cut into her lower hp with her upper front teeth as he tried to plant the first part of the cock inside her. His nails dug into her belly, tugging at the lower flesh of the beaver; she felt the pull on her inflated clit. She pressed her groin down to bed, trapping his hands under her perspiring stomach and he tongued the side of her neck the way he always did when he was crazy to fuck her, crazy with need.
She pressed her buttocks together once he'd passed through the anus; the way the cheeks felt around his pecker, it made David think she was trying to keep him out. But Jill couldn't help it. It was automatic. She was glad when he fought her body, squirming in order to penetrate deeper, filling her until the circumference of the small hole scalded with the prick's animal heat.
She felt his chest thump on her back, throwing her closer to the bed. "Give me a pillow," he said, breathing hard, and his voice almost broke with the tension and emotion of the moment. She pushed up on her palms and she raised her upper body on her knees. She felt the softness of the pillow under her belly and now he was thrusting forward again and she sank below him.
One hand was on her breast and she winced with pain as he squeezed it so hard that the tit felt as though it were exploding against his palm. He bit her neck and shoulder, his mouth not closing, not even moving as it slipped along her skin, as he jammed his sex into her ass-hole.
He was rocking faster and faster and she knew before the first burst of hot come that he was climaxing. The organ seemed to swell inside the narrow canal and the smell of nakedness and sex filled her nostrils. She turned her head against the sheet-covered mattress and stroked her cheek against the cotton as he drove the penis home. The cream licked like flames at the tight box and it opened wide to suck in the sperm, springing closed and tight to squeeze the last few drops from him as he slowly came to a stop. He lay exhausted on her back while his maleness was in a full-stroke penetration. Against the rawness of the hole, she liked the feeling of it, shrinking slowly, become fleshy soft.
"David?" Her voice was soft, muffled. She didn't want Wendy to hear. Her husband brought his lips to her ear. "Yes?" It was as if he knew that she wanted this to be a private moment, for he whispered as well.
"Do you love me?" It was all she could do to keep from crying.
"Of course." He said it unselfconsciously, his voice serious. He seemed shocked that she would ask and that surprised her for she had come genuinely to doubt.
"Then... She paused for a moment. Wendy was still there and that in itself was a violation of privacy, the very privacy she meant to restore. Yet the girl's presence made it all the more urgent to say what she now wanted to say. "Then let's go back to the way it used to be. I can't do it this way. I can't."
She felt David's fingers move through her hair, pulling it from over her ear. "Yes," he said, and she felt cleansed by his breath against her ear. "That's the way it will be."
She knew that he meant it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"I'll miss you," Lisa said to Christopher, and her fingers stroked his palm. His hand was cupped and open as though he were offering her the. palm to read. Both were on their sides, lying on the sand in the shelter of the small cove at Santa Monica beach. It was past midnight and the beach was empty. Above, on the Pacific Coast Highway, there was the steady sound of automobiles, but that seemed far away.
I'll miss you. But I'll see you. When I come home at Christmas."
"No." Her voice was crisp, determined. It was less a little girl's voice and more a woman's. "I don't want you to say that. It's not true."
Chris blushed with the truth of what she was saying. This summer Lisa Ferris had come to play a merely minor role in his life. He stumbled, saying, "That's not so."
"No, it is so and I've realized it's my own fault. I didn't want to be, but I was being a prick-teaser, always letting you take me to a borderline and then saying 'no.' It was wrong, and I know I've lost you because of it."
"I wouldn't say that. That you had lost me." He felt sorry for her now and he wanted to comfort her.
"I was silly. I made a big thing out of my virginity and I didn't take responsibility for what I really did want to do."
"That didn't matter that much, not really."
"It wouldn't have before the summer. I could have gone on playing the same games and neither of us would have been the wiser. But you've changed over the summer, you really have. Maybe it was all the time you spent with your sister-" Chris reflected, with some ruefulness, how true this was-"because she was an older woman to know. But you've changed, and I can't blame you for not accepting my little girlishness."
Christopher was moved. She was so quietly sad that there seemed nothing he could do to ease her hurt. He squeezed her shoulders, bringing her closer to him and kissing her on her forehead. "You'll always have been my first real girl friend. The first girl I really loved. That's important."
"I'm going to be brave, Chris. Just this once. I want you to be the first boy I made love to. I'd always be sorry if it weren't you, I know that."
The idea that he would be making love to Lisa now, after all this time, within minutes, almost paralyzed him with a strange and benign fear. The blood rushed to his prick and Lisa's hand came to it, rolling her palm along its underside. The sensation just now almost made him see stars, the kind he'd assumed were the property of comic strips. His ears blocked out the sound of the surf and he heard only her deep but still feminine breathing. Her mouth was on his. She was leading him, uncertainly and awkwardly, and he took the burden from her, tonguing her furiously, pulling her body toward him. Under her long sleeved jersey she wore no bra tonight and the breasts pressed warmly on him, the tits pebble-hard. His hands had gone to her waist in back and his fingers were already moving up to the sides of her spine, his thumbs under her arms and touching the sides of the boobs. She closed her eyes and her lips pursed, making an almost whistling sound as she inhaled and the thumb glided almost to the ripe, frozen nipples themselves, prodding them, pulling at the erect buds inside the brown-red areola. Her fingernails were on the back of his neck and he scratched the nape, drawing near to lick at his earlobe.
His hand was cupped at the joining of her denims at the crotch; the wrist rolling over the covered pud while the fingers curled under the arch, tickling the start of her buttocks. His palm could feel her deep heat even through the jeans; though the pants were tight, the crotch seemed to pull easily against the external beaver. Christopher felt a rash of excitement when Lisa herself unzipped the garment at the side, raising her ass off the sand so that he could pull it down past the cunt. The chill of the night beach air hit her thighs, but the cunt was warm and the insides of the organ already seethed with some hot moisture dripping down the raw-pink tissue.
He burned his knees as they pushed down behind him against the sand. He eased his mouth to her stomach and cut the edges of his front teeth on plumpness there. His tongue circled and circled just over the triangle of hair until Lisa impatiently was thrusting her pelvis forward, rolling the pudendum up, asking him, silent but heavy breathing, to go down on her, to go lower. His tongue tip was still on the swelling clit for a few seconds; the bead seemed to grow bigger and warmer without his doing a thing to it, just keeping his tongue on it. He sniffed her box, liked the smell of it. He wanted to suck her twat in, stuff it ah-the pussy hair and the folds of hp flesh-but he wanted at the same time to stick the tongue into the crevice. His head rocked from side to side as he tried to flick the hole wider and wider, the tip curled inside as he pulled the lips. His hands took her fingers and squeezed them mercilessly as he tongue fucked her. Grains of sand brushed like dust into her ass crack as she moved her body under his, jamming the globes with a thud each time he'd plunge the tongue lower. Her pubic hair was like wet silk and the sweat had begun to pour from the young girl's underarms.
Above the sound of his own breathing he heard her voice. "Make love to me, Chris. Put it in me. Put yours in mine." He felt as though all of his sperm were clotted deep in his belly; it was almost paralyzing to hear her talk this way-he had imagined it too many times. His lips closed over his teeth and he skated through the bush and kissed the wet pussy closed mouth.
He turned on his side, no longer touching her, but facing her. His mouth was still moist from her privates. Lisa's eyes radiated her need; her jaw was slack and her tongue touched the corner of her mouth. She let her hand roam over his body until-like a blind woman-she seized on his cock as though it were her cane and squeezed it hard until a small bit of come came out the slit. His erection had already strained the zipper so that it was half undone, but now in one movement Lisa pulled it down all the way and took the cock, her smooth palm pulling the foreskin down the glans. Her forefinger wiped the head clean of dog-water and she spread the moisture over the sensitive line of purple. She pulled on the prick and Christopher bit into his lip to keep himself from smashing her with the took spurting the come all over her thighs and pussy hair before he could penetrate her, rip the hymen and make her a woman.
Lisa's hands were open and the perspiration-covered hands soothed the insides of her thighs, rubbing them as though she were masturbating. She brought the hands up to the groin and her fingernails moved down the borders of the pubic triangle, scraping the line where groin became thigh. She rolled her butt into the sand, turning, snapping her back to one side and then the other. "I want you, Chris," she said, and in another moment one hand had turned over so that her palm touched his thigh, and her fingers were coursing through his hair. The nails touched the scrotum, but she was gentle with his balls. His whole lower body throbbed with a quick, blunt rhythm, but he hardly could keep himself calm long enough to insert the rod into her snatch.
It was Lisa who did the work, raising her pelvis to offer the hole to him, taking the end of the prick between her thumb and the tip of her forefinger. She drew the bulb to the open crevice and let him feel the heat inside her. The puffy pink dome soaked in the warm moisture that covered her there. Wanting more of it to soothe him, he pushed forward, into her, but it was Lisa who had to hold the lips apart, her fingertips inside her web of hair, the fingers pulling on the lips as they dug into them. Her left thumb touched its side to the clit as she spread herself under the boy's sex organ, waiting for him to violate her.
The way inside her was not terribly hard. The first couple of inches, in fact, were easy. They had made sure of that by the countless hours of sex play in which they'd indulged. And she was ready, as wet as she'd ever been, in a way that would minimize the hurting friction.
But beyond the first thrust Lisa felt the punishment. Even Christopher could tell the sudden change in stress as the vacuum pulled on him, yet forbade him to go deeper. He rested a second while Lisa breathed heavily, trying to gather strength. When he started to push again, she held her breath and tried to spread her legs even further apart under him, to make her more vulnerable. But he hurt her, nonetheless, and it was her deep, throaty yelp of pain that kept him back after he'd advanced merely another half inch or so.
He could see that her face was covered with sweat. Her eyes were closed, but when she felt him stop inside her, she drew them wide again. "No, don't stop.... Really...." Her voice was far away and her eyes seemed misted over. She was talking at a distance, he thought. "Please, don't stop."
He had to force himself to do it; he could feel her pain in every cell of his body. It amazed him how close this sensation was to sadism and it was hard for him to handle. It seemed a long way from an act of love. Each tremor of her pain was an act of bravery for him.
His spine curved and he shot up another inch. Lisa clenched her teeth, trying to bear it. At the base of his back, just before his buttocks, her nails ripped into his skin and tiny lines of blood showed on the surface of the muscle.
"All at once," he said. 'We've got to do it sometime. O.K.? " She looked up at him and nodded. He closed his eyes and grabbed her ass-cheeks, raising them off the sand and drawing her crotch closer to his own; he was leading her, dragging her up his dick.
"Oooh...." Lisa's voice broke just as he felt all of his sex drown inside her cunt and the walls of the tight muscle open around him, soothing him with her lubricants and her blood. His dong was numb, almost asleep, but he still felt the pleasure of moving it up and down the chute, even though the sensations were slightly dulled. His balls were heavy, aching. Lisa was prostrate under him, unmoving, but begging him with the animal sounds in her throat to go faster, to tear her up inside, to screw her until both of them came off, this time at last locked into each other s genitals.
He tried to go faster and the walls of her pussy puckered around the meat. She was close around him and now her legs moved up alongside his own as her soles touched the sand. Her fingers were easier now on him and she wasn't wildly clawing him, although the pain was still deep, filling her at the same time Chris plugged up the opening he'd just created.
He was shaking the stick so fast inside her, in quick little movements up and down rather than in-out, that he managed to keep most of the erection within her for most of the fuck. She was holding on and she curled her legs around his calves, afraid to move her groin for fear she'd hurt the wound even more. She just lay there, sucking in the pressure and friction Chris was giving her, loving every second of it, even though the hurt was intense.
Chris raised one leg and then moved over her body so that with Lisa drawn toward him and her ass off the sand he was on her and yet partly at her sidethis way she was even tighter, pulling at the blood in his cock. He could stroke the hairy flesh around the hole and pull on it to make it wider. He liked getting deeper and deeper, breaking her wide open. She didn't have to move-she was in too much pain to move-but he could feel her response in the small tremors that coursed through her body. He felt the tension in her spine, at its base; even her ass flesh shook with the rhythm that was inside her, but could not escape to the frame to make her writhe beneath his weight.
Four fingers from the boy's right hand were placed between her buttocks, but this was to keep her in his grip so that she would not slip off the dork in one of his backward movements. He put his mouth to her tit and sucked at it as he left the cock all the way within her, fully penetrated. The side of Lisa's hand was on his neck as he nibbled the areola and her fingers moved through his hair. Unconsciously, in imitation of his sucking, Lisa was licking her lips, closing them around her curling, twisting tongue. The feel of his mouth on her tit was pure pleasure, even as her cunt was steamy, wanting him and at the same time wanting him to stop, because it hurt so much.
Still, she had started to get into his rhythm. He had been inside her for so long that a slow tickling filled the pussy, a tingle that cried obt for more and faster stroking with the boy's hard phallus. She put her damp palms on the sand beside her hips, pushing down as she put the base of her skull back into the beach and drew her pud up, pulling with her Christopher's penis which couldn't stop rocking inside of her as he followed. His mouth opened wider on her boob and he made snorting sounds as he sucked her, as the whole breast filled his mouth.
She touched his balls, lightly, and pushed between them with her fingertip, jamming the finger against the lower part of the cock. Christopher plugged her until their hairs were welded together and he stayed that close while he shifted from side to side within the cunt, stretching the walls, pulling on the lubricant-soggy lips.
Her other hand played with his chest, her wrist rubbing the nipple in time to the beat of his cock coming up the snatch. His tongue moved on her forearm now as she manipulated him, the tongue's tip slipping easily from her tit to her hand, while at the same time his other hand played with the labia around the distended pussy, pulling on the organ and rolling the erected clitoris at one half the speed at which he slid up and down her vagina. The two different rhythms were driving Lisa crazy. Her instincts told her to race to keep up with his quick, simple fucking, but she wanted to slow down, wrap her legs around his ass, and enjoy the slow subtle jacking off he was giving to her love-pimple.
She knew by the way Christopher clutched her ass that he was ready. It was an instinctive warning he would give her-or his sister, or Wendy-that they would have to hurry if they were to climax with him. From this point on he was an animal, swinging wildly inside her cunt, not aware or caring of any pain he might give her by moving so frenetically through the sore and newly opened box.
But it was the way he shoved the clit down, forcing it into her hair with the insistent pressure of his thumb, that started her off. Her legs jumped around the sides of his body as he started to come, sending hot liquid sparks up toward her opened womb. She pulled his rump apart, holding on to him, afraid he'd slip out on the wild see-saw arc his body made as the slit continued to pour sweet, hot come. His thumb slipped off the clitoris, but now she just had to arch her spine and rub the pussy up against his whang to send her off, pulling in on the last few spurts of the juice, watching his eyes blink and flicker until at last they closed, and he rested all of himself down on her.
He stayed inside of her for a long while; though he turned over on his back, he kept her in his arms and eased her over him. She kissed him gently, and his mouth opened around her tongue as it licked his lips.
"I guess I have to wait until Christmas, don't I?" he asked, half serious.
"No. There's tonight." She laughed, running her nails, more gently this time, up his backside.
"I didn't mean that," Chris answered, smiling and shaking his head. "I meant vacation from school."
"You forgot Thanksgiving," answered Lisa.
EPILOGUE
The brother and sister waited for the two days that remained of the boy's vacation-waited for a call from the other, expecting one-and dreading it. Jill dreaded it more especially. Her reconciliation with David had caused a rush of remorse with regard to her incestuous affair. Looking back over the summer, the whole thing seemed worse than perverse-grotesque, actually.
Christopher, for his part, had realized how much he wanted Lisa-and needed her, needed her more than he had ever needed his sister. He felt ashamed, but what was worse he was afraid, though he couldn't localize his fear enough to figure out of what he was afraid. Perhaps it was still the fear of discovery-that his parents might find out, that Lisa might find out, that David might. But maybe, he was coming to think, it was that Jill would want him this way forever, would want to take possession-of course, he realized how melodramatic it sounded-of his soul. At the same time the opposite situation frightened him. If the affair ended, could they ever be close again? Could they ever pretend they were, after all, just brother and sister?
The very last night before he was to leave, Christopher and Jill were to have dinner at their parents' house, and with them came David, Lisa, and the Brennan's two children.
After dinner, Jul complained of feeling overfull, and playfully asked Christopher if he'd walk around the block with her-"one last walk with my little brother," as she said. No one-not even Christopher-knew how brave she had to be to volunteer to be alone with him.
Out on the street, she took his hand in her own. "I have something to tell you-"
"I have something to tell you," Christopher said, his face pained as he looked into her eyes, but he did not go on. They walked in silence for a few moments.
"I've reconciled with David." The words filled Christopher with relief, even though he had come to view David himself with distrust during the last few months after everything Jill had told him about.
"I'm sorry," she went on, seeing him caught in his own thoughts.
Chris looked at her and smiled. "I'm happy for you. I really am. It's the best thing."
They continued to walk. "And what did you have to say to me?"
"Lisa and I-we're together now. Really together. We made love for the first time."
Jill couldn't help the flicker of jealousy that burned. through her mind, but she was genuinely happy. This seemed to plaster over the break between Chris and herself, ease his pain as David had eased her own. "And I'm glad for you. I mean that."
"I care about you a lot, Jill."
"I love you. Whatever way-" Tears filled her eyes and she stopped in mid-step. 'Whatever way, I love you."
"Will it ever be the same?" he asked her.
"You know the saying-that you never even step into the same river twice. But maybe it can be good again. The right way."
Chris leaned forward, and she thought he might kiss her mouth, but instead he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. Her lips pressed against his shoulder and she squeezed him. Loving him, feeling his love for her.
