"By no means, little sister," The tall, sandy-haired man's craggily good-looking face was amused. "Forgotten, maybe--but far from gone. Have you missed me these last four years?"
"I--I--"
"You've matured nicely," he told her, his blue eyes appraising her curvaceous body with lazy approval. "Hair still natural platinum--or does it need a touch of Clairol these days?"
"Certainly not!" .she retorted. "I've never used--"
"And that tasty pair of knockers is all yours too? No artful foam rubber or silicone?"
"Brett, you--what do you want?"
"I came to visit you, little sister," he murmured. "Now that you're all grown up and married. . . . How do you like married life so far? All of two weeks, isn't it?"
"Brett, I--"
"Why are you so nervous, Carol?"
"I'm not--I--"
"Where's your husband, by the way?"
"He's--I don't know. Attending a board meeting or something. Why do you want to know?"
"I have a wedding gift for him. And you," he added as a kind of afterthought. "How do you like being married, Carol?"
"It's--fine."
"Why did you choose a man who's nearly seventy? That's wow, three times your age and then some!"
"Why shouldn't I--"
"Oh, I know. He's filthy rich, of course--and you're a stacked, beautiful twenty-one-year-old blonde. All perfectly reasonable."
She glared at him.
"I suppose you want money," she demanded. "Oh, I have money," he responded indifferently. "All I need. Don't you give me credit for any fraternal affection, Can't I pay a visit to my little sister to bring a wedding present?"
"What wedding present?" she asked suspiciously.
He delved into his pocket and produced a bulky little square-shaped package.
"I really meant to give it to you both together," he told her, "but since he's not here, I guess you might as well take a look at it on your own. For now."
Carol looked at him suspiciously.
Apprehensively.
He tossed the package into her lap.
"Open it up," he urged her, his voice soft but distinctly menacing. "Take a look at your nice present."
Nervously, she picked up the package and fumbled with the tinsel string and pink rosette. She peeled away the shiny silver foil that wrapped it, and found herself holding a chunky little album, with the name CAROL engraved in flowing silver script upon its powder blue leather cover.
She looked up, into the steely blue eyes fixed upon her.
"Take a look, little sister."
Her stomach was suddenly full of butterflies. With fingers that seemed reluctant to obey, she opened the front cover and looked at the photograph on the page.
"Your tits hadn't rounded out that way when you were seventeen," Brett said lazily. "Not that they weren't a very succulent pair, of course."
Carol stared, transfixed, at the photograph of herself at seventeen, sprawled naked on a bed, eyes closed, one hand out-flung, the other nestling between her outstretched legs. The shoulder-length mass of her pale blonde hair was spread over the pillow in wild disarray, and the equally pale hair adorning her crotch allowed a distinct glimpse of pink tissue to be seen.
"That's a nice one, isn't it?" Brett said casually. "See what you think of the next one."
With a kind of sick dread, she turned the page.
In this picture, her knees were bent, widely parted, and the pink inner lining of her pussy was very plainly revealed as her fingers massaged the sensitive tissues.
The next picture was a close-up shot of her upper body: her hands clasping her breasts while her open mouth avidly engulfed a large, stiffly erect penis.
"Where--how--" she spluttered.
He grinned smugly.
"You never took much interest in my photography hobby, did you, little sister," he said. "I had all kinds of things set up . . . you'd be surprised at some of the interesting pictures I have tucked away in safe places." She stared at him, the color draining out of her face.
"What do you want?"
He inspected her fingernails.
"You," he said casually.
"M--me?"
"Do you still have that little hang-up, Carol?"
"Wh-wha . . . what hang-up . . . ? "
He leaned back in his chair and looked steadily at her through half-closed eyelids. His tongue slid slowly over his lips.
Carol caught her breath.
"Oh, yes," he murmured. "I see you do.. . . "
"I.. . . "
"Come here, little sister."
"No, I.. . . "
"Come here."
Slowly she stood up. The album dropped unheeded to the gleaming parquet floor with a soft thud.
He slowly licked his lips again, and Carol gave an odd little moan of despair and . . .
Something else.
"Come here," he commanded yet again.
The few steps between them seemed like miles, but at last she stood before him, hands clutched nervously together just below her thrusting breasts.
He studied her for a long minute, and she tried to force her breathing to be calm. She couldn't do it.
"Little sister," he said caressingly. "Yes, you've filled out and grown up--but you haven't changed very much, have you? You're still the same little sister."
"I--I'm--"
"How's your brand new husband in the sack, Carol? Is he a good lay, hmm?"
"He--I--"
He raised one hand and laid it lightly on her belly. She started violently.
"Or wouldn't it make any difference how good he was? Did you ever manage to turn on when I wasn't there?"
She tried to say something, but couldn't get the words out.
"You still need your big brother, do you?"
He increased the pressure of his hand against her belly, and a deep shudder ran through her body. He moved his hand downward until it pressed against the soft bulge of her pubic mound beneath the cloth of her skirt.
"No!" she cried hoarsely, and backed away. "You can't--you mustn't--it's different now!"
He shook his head.
"Just the same," he said confidently. "It's just the same, Carol. Nothing's changed except a few exterior circumstances. Your cunt belongs to me, the way it always did."
"I--"
"Come back here, little sister."
"No.. . . "
But already she had taken the step which brought her back within reach of the hand which once again reached out to cup the bulge of her pussy.
"You mustn't.. . . "
He bunched the cloth of her skirt in his hand and pulled her even closer.
"I must," he said.
"But my husband.. . . "
"Is away from home most of the time. But I'm sure he won't object to you associating with your brother--what could be safer? Who can chaperone a beautiful young blonde bride better than her big, strong, loving brother?"
Still holding her firmly by the skirt, he slid his other hand behind her and over the richly rounded hemispheres of her taut buttocks, kneading the succulent flesh with hard, knowing, oddly sensitive fingers.
Deep in her throat, an involuntary whimper gathered and forced its sound out between her lips.
"Turning you on, little sister?"
"Ohhh.. . . "
"Did you really think you could do without me?"
His hand glided down the skirt-covered length of her thigh and beneath the hem, resting on the nylon-covered flesh just above her knee.
She shuddered violently.
"You remember . . . the first time?"
His voice was. hardly above a whisper now, but her ears were attuned only to him.
She nodded.
"My little sister, suddenly growing up," he mused.
His hand moved upward a few inches, squeezing the stocking-covered flesh of her thigh.
"Sixteen years old," he went on reminiscently. "Tits starting to grow into luscious little handfuls. Hips rounding themselves out. Everything coming to maturity."
His hand was almost at the top of her thigh now.
"My little sister starting to realize why the boys were looking at her," he continued.
He had reached the top of her stocking, and now his fingertips slid over satin-soft, hare skin.
"Mmmmm . . . no.. . . " she protested helplessly. She tried to back away again, but his grip on her skirt and the tightening of his fingers around her thigh restrained her.
She didn't need much to restrain her. . . .
"My little sister liked her big brother best of all, though, didn't she?"
"I--you--"
"Always flirting her nice little body around him."
It was . . : His fingers worked up to the back of one leg opening of her panties.
"Even when you were just a little kid," he told her, "you always followed me about, anytime I'd let you. You didn't have anything I wanted then--but when you started growing up, you saw that I did have some use for you . . . didn't you?"
The tantalizing fingers crept upwards, cupping the soft warm skin of her ass.
"Didn't you?" he persisted.
"I . . . yes.. . . "
He let go of her skirt and took his hand off her buttock. He leaned back in his chair again and surveyed her with cynical, speculative eyes.
"Don't you think your husband would be interested in seeing some of my mementos of those happy childhood days, little sister Carol?" he asked.
"Please . . . no!"
"Then you'll have to keep me happy, won't you?"
"I.. . . " She stared down at him helplessly.
"In fact you could start off right now with a nice juicy blow job," he told her.
She drew in a deep breath that hissed between her teeth, and threw a hunted glance around her.
"The pictures might even turn him on," Brett added lazily. "You never know."
"No--oh no.. . . "
"You know what you have to do, then," he said.
He spread his legs, sliding forward a little in his seat so that his crotch was close to the edge.
Carol, moving as slowly as though she were underwater, sank to her knees. Her fingers reached for the zipper at his crotch, and took almost a minute to work it open. She seemed unable to control her movements, and fumbled ineptly.
"Fish it out, then," he ordered huskily.
She delved into the opening, and as her hand cupped the quarter-hard tube of flesh, her whole body jerked once as though a jolt of high voltage had shocked her.
It stiffened rapidly even as she held it, almost snapping into its full eight inches of thick rigidity, arrow-shaped head suffused with blood to a dark purplish shade. Its veins throbbed with blood, and it twitched with every rapid beat of his heart.
She stared at it mutely, hypnotized, until his voice sounded, far above her head.
"Give it a nice kiss to say hullo, little sister. It hasn't seen you for nearly four years, remember. "Show it how pleased you are to see it again."
Slowly her blonde-haired head bowed, until her ripely full red lips touched the swollen cockhead in a light kiss.
Her tongue flickered out, a pink instrument of delight, and swept over the wide crown.
"Ah," he gasped. "Yes, that's good."
She repeated the moist caress, sweeping a circle of tingling sensation over the nerve-laden area. A drop of clear fluid welled out of the slit at the end, and she captured the bland nectar with an avid tongue tip.
He grunted approval.
"Give it the works, baby," he commanded.
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with his clean yet strangely musky masculine odor, and once again pressed her tongue against the tightly stretched skin of the corona. She swept her tongue tip around in a broad trail of wetness, then pulled back a little to contemplate the moist shine of the hot flesh.
He laid one hand on her head.
"That's the way, little sister," he crooned.
She encircled the head with her lips and let it slide into her mouth until 'it reached the point where any deeper penetration threatened to choke her. She wrapped her fingers around the lower part of the phallic rod to control it, and slid her head back until just the head lay on her tongue. She blew warm breath over it from her throat, and was rewarded by another grunt of pleasure from her aroused brother.
Still with her fingers curled around it, she started to lick around the ridge of the fiery head, then along its sides. She traced with the tip of her tongue the path of the large vein of the underside, down to its hair-shrouded roots. The masculine scent of him was much more intense here. She worked her way back up along the lower surface until she reached the tiny nexus of nerves just under the head. She thrust her hot, wet tongue tip against that spot and he jerked his hips, moaning out a deep sound of body-wracking sensual delight.
Now his pre-coital lubrication began to flow in good earnest, oozing up like a miniature spring from the little opening in the dome of his cockhead. She lapped it up eagerly, and his cock pulsed with yet stronger excited response as she engulfed its length with the warm, wet depth of her mouth, this time tightening her lips around it, pressing the inner walls of her cheeks and mouth as closely upon it as she could manage.
The barrier in her throat had opened, and the thick, stiff length pushed all the way in, unhindered.
With her free hand, she fumbled back into the depths of his fly and gently coaxed his heavy, hairy balls out into the open. She slid the pulsing length of his prick out of her spit-slippery mouth and nuzzled his hanging weights, relishing once again the rich, male fragrance of them. They seemed to come to life, to churn and heave beneath her tongue.
Lovingly she mouthed them for several seconds, then licked her way back up along the almost bursting veins to the responsively throbbing cockhead. Once again she sucked it between her moist pink lips, pressing it with her tongue and the linings of her cheeks.
His breath rasped with excitement now, and his hands roamed almost aimlessly over her naked back and shoulders, sending tremors of response through her whole body. His choppy breathing grew more and more urgent, and she knew he was almost ready to fill her mouth and throat with the hot load of sperm building up explosively in his heavy balls.
Well, she was ready!
She lashed the arrow-shaped head fiercely with her tongue, tightening her lips and working her head up and down so that his cock slid in and out of the wet channel she had made for him.
Suddenly she felt his body stiffen, and his fingers dug painfully into her shoulders. His breath became a series of grunting gasps, and her mouth was filled with salty, slightly bitter fluid. She gulped it down avidly.
He slumped back in his seat, and reluctantly she released his softening prick. It keeled over onto his thigh and she sat back on her heels, waiting.
"I see you didn't lose your touch, little sister," he said lazily. "Now, what would you like?"
A deep shudder ran through her body as, with the completion of his orgasm, her own excitement subsided enough to allow her inhibitions to function once again.
"No . . . no, Brett," she protested, scrambling to her feet and retreating to the other side of the room.
He smiled lazily, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket" and drying her saliva from his recently sucked, now detumescing cock, then tucking it back inside his pants.
"I have to go, anyway," he said. "But you think about it, little sister. Take a good look at the photographs and think about it."
He got up from his chair and strode across the room towards her, and caught her by the shoulders.
"I'll be calling you very soon," he said, his blue eyes staring down into hers. "Just remember--everything."
CHAPTER TWO
Remember everything!
Everything she had been trying so hard to forget in the last four years, although the treacherous memories would never be entirely suppressed. They lurked in her mind, lecherous phantoms that rose up to haunt her, to catch her unawares at her moments of greatest vulnerability.
Carol paced restlessly up and down the large living room with its expensive antique furnishings and paneled walls; beneath her feet was the incredibly expensive pastel softness of a Kaslimir rug, lying like an island in a gleaming parquet ocean.
Between her creamy-skinned thighs, the heated tissues of her pussy were throbbing.
She went to one of the long windows and looked out at the landscaped garden below. The mound of her pubis brushed against the window ledge, sending a spark of sensation crackling through her loins.
Abruptly, she turned and hurried out of the room, up the wide staircase with its shallow treads, and along a corridor to the little suite of rooms that was her own: the enormous blue-velvet-and-silver bedroom; the Chippendale sitting room; the black-marble-and-mirror bath-room with its huge sunken tub.
She stood in the middle of her bedroom feeling suddenly lost and bewildered, thinking of the undistinguished frame house where she had grown up--she and Brett. . . .
Through that door over there was her dressing room, lined with fitted closets. All the clothes she had ever dreamed of. Furs. Jewelry in the box on the dressing table. A bell to ring that would summon servants to wait on her. Three different cars at her disposal, to take her to Fifth Avenue or to one of the exclusive country clubs.
All hers, because she had platinum hair and pretty features and a ripely curving body and was only twenty-one, and she had happened to catch the imagine of Keir Raynes.
There was a portrait of Keir hanging over the fireplace, and she wandered across to look at it. The face of a man accustomed to get what he wanted. Not bad-looking--for seventy.
She found herself clenching her teeth. When he died . . .
As though the contemplation of his picture had conjured him into being, there sounded Keir's special, knock at the door. He was home from his board meeting.
"Come in," she called.
"Well, my dear," he said as he entered the room, "and how has your day been?"
She murmured something.
"Harding tells me you've been entertaining a visitor." His gray eyes surveyed her narrowly.
She forced a light laugh from her lips. "Oh, yes, my brother, Brett. He was sorry to miss you. I haven't seen him for four years, you know. He must have seen the wedding announcement, I suppose. He--"
Keir nodded.
"I expect we shall meet some time. But just now I'm more interested in his sister.. . . "
He advanced towards her and took her into his arms, fastening his lips avidly upon hers. She submitted, as she had dutifully submitted ever since their wedding, half blanking out her mind, half trying to will her body to respond, to draw pleasure from this masculine contact.
But that never happened unless she allowed thoughts of Brett to intervene, to fill her mind with shameful fantasies and memories, so that the man who actually touched her and made love to her was hardly more than an animated dildo.
Keir was nuzzling her hair, her throat, murmuring his flowery compliments to her beauty. But the sound that echoed in her ears were memories : "Little sister . . . what would you like, little sister . . . I'll be calling you soon . . . just remember--everything.. . . "
"Undress for me, Carol," Keir was whispering urgently.
She stepped away from him a few paces, and her fingers went mechanically to the buttons of her blouse. She unfastened them slowly, while her elderly husband watched her with glowing, avid eyes. There was a whisper of silk as she slid the blouse off her shoulders, revealing the lacy mesh of her brassiere that held her voluptuous breasts in check.
Keir sat down on the edge of the king-sized four-poster bed and gazed at her lasciviously.
"The titties," he urged her hoarsely.
She reached behind her and unfastened the hooks that held her brassiere in place, then hunched her shoulders to let the delicate lace web slide down her arms and off, so that her big, firm-textured breasts with their surprisingly dark nipples swam into view.
"And that tasty pair of knockers is all yours too?" Brett had teased her, and Carol's nipples started to harden at the forbidden recollection.
She raised her arms above her head, the way Keir liked her to do at this stage in her undressing, so that her breasts thrust out high and pert, and walked over to him so that he could nuzzle them, lick them, suck the pebbly nipples between his lips and mouth them hungrily.
She thought of Brett yet again, and shivers of desire ran through her. Feeling them, Keir redoubled his efforts, until her breasts seemed to be on fire with arousal.
With a deep gasp, he finally gently pushed her away, her signal to continue her striptease.
She took the hem of her skirt in her hands and worked it slowly up her thighs, taking long seconds over each couple of inches, letting him feast his eyes as her legs were gradually bared to his sight. When the tabs of her garterbelt came into sight she went back towards him, so that he could unfasten them with fingers that trembled a little with excitement. He rolled each stocking down to her ankles, gloating over the smoothness of the skin he revealed, brushing his face against her thighs as he worked.
She stepped oft of her high-heeled shoes so that he could pull the stockings all the way off, then slipped her bare feet back into them, and turned to face away from him.
Now she tugged her skirt, bit by bit, up over her buttocks. He was panting as the richly rounded hemispheres were gradually revealed beneath the almost transparent nylon of her sheer black panties. She bent forward just a little to enhance her ass-cheeks' tempting curves, and he caressed them gently for a minute, then slid a hand through each leg band, closing his palms on the warm, naked flesh.
As Brett had done. . . .
He was working his fingers into her asscrack, sliding them along until they touched the hot, hairy split of her pussy, musky with juice.
"You're so wet!" Keir gasped excitedly. "You want me to plow you with my big dick, huh?"
Gone was all the cultured, gentlemanly veneer. That mask quickly vanished when he was aroused.
He dug his fingers into the mushy tissues, and she moaned and quivered as the image of Brett filled her mind.
He pulled his hands away, and she turned to face him once more, unsnapping her skirt and stepping out of it. She pulled off her garterbelt, and now stood before him wearing only her form-hugging, translucent black panties. The silvery puff of her thick pubic hair was very evident to his eyes, and he fingered it lightly through the silky material. He had grown to manhood in a time when women hid their intimate parts under concealing layers, very bard to get out of the way, and he had never lost the deep relish for penetrating into the forbidden territory of their undergarments, bringing the concealed areas gradually to light. He especially enjoyed it when she was wearing a long evening dress, which brought back his early explorations even more vividly to his mind.
Now he hooked his fingers into the waist-band of the delicate panties and slowly drew them down over her hips and a few inches down her thighs. He licked his lips avidly, and bent his face to sniff at her rich female aroma, pressing his nose against her sex hair and in-haling deeply. His hands clasped her ass-cheeks again, kneading the tender flesh.
Brett, she thought.
She felt a trickle of juice oozing down her thigh.
Keir stood up and pushed her to sit on the edge of the bed, where he had been. Her legs felt weak and she was glad to be able to collapse. He knelt before her, drawing the panties the rest of the way down her legs and off over her feet. He ducked his head and kissed her feet, then started to work his way up with tiny licks and kisses along her left leg, up her calf to her knee, then her thigh. She spread her legs wide, and would feel the juices of her excitement making a moist patch on the satin spread.
"Ahhhh," Keir breathed, gazing intently at the rich pink tissue of her spread. pussy. "Lovely . . . lovely . . . you're so wet today, my little hot-assed bride!"
Carol squeezed her eyes shut so that she could visualize the image of Brett more strongly. Her body was trembling now with anticipation.
The hot probe of her husband's tongue tip darted against the tight inner lips of her cunt and she started violently at the spasm of response the moist contact produced.
"Ooooh," she whimpered.
The teasing tongue wandered upwards along the hot cleft, licking thirstily at the thick muskiness her arousal had produced, and jabbed once at the swollen, throbbing morsel of flesh that was her pounding clitoris.
"Aagh!" Carol gasped.
But Keir's tongue quickly flicked away from that spot of maximum sensation and started to explore the surrounding areas. The wet caress touched the inner flesh of her thighs, then maddeningly swept over the inflamed tissues of her pussy once again. But he avoided her clitoris this time, sensing how close she was to the moment of explosion.
Carol gave a little groan of protest.
Keir seized her thighs in his hands and drew her legs over his shoulders, tilting her back-wards so that she sprawled on the bed, supported on her elbows. He ducked his head and began to nibble delicately at the curvaceous mounds of his wife's creamy-skinned ass.
"Mmmmmm.. . . " Carol moaned, on the verge of pain that somehow enhanced her pleasure.
She tried to banish the image of Brett, to concentrate on the sheer physical pleasure of what her husband was doing to her--but it was impossible. She knew it. She had tried before--and with the blanking out of Brett's image from her fantasies, the sensations died away from her pussy and left her frigid.
Keir's exploring tongue glided into the warm cleft between Carol's buttocks and wantonly tickled the sensitive flesh that lined it. Carol quivered and jerked, and shoved her crotch imploringly towards him.
Keir caressed her thighs soothingly.
"Easy, easy," he murmured.
"Ooooh . . . noo . .
Keir drew apart the hair-covered folds of her labia with his fingers and blew a warm breath onto the hot, wet, now almost scarlet lining.
"Ahhh! AHH!" she gasped.
The impudent tongue tip stabbed against the tingling clitoris;: and again she was almost precipitated over the edge of the precipice of orgasm.
But not yet! Not yet!
Like a miniature cock, her husband's tongue now thrust against the tight bud of Carol's vulva, once again eagerly lapping up the sexual lubricating juices that bubbled out of the inflamed inner channel; then the wet tongue flew back up again to the throbbing clitoris, vibrating over the tiny organ, and abandoning it again, just a moment too soon. . . .
"Oh . . . please . . . B-B--"
She bit her lips to keep back the fatal name. Her husband did not notice; he was intensely absorbed in the pleasure of tasting his wife's fresh young honey-pot, and only heard her words as an acknowledgement of the pleasure his skillful tongue and lips were affording her.
Again and again he teased her, brought her trembling and whimpering to the brink, then left her hanging, begging, pleading for release; at last he drew back from her and fumbled down at his pants, dragging down the zipper and hastily pushing the garment down his legs and off.
His cock was only half hard. She had seen it fully erect on their wedding night, when the stimulus of her total newness had been sufficient. He hadn't minded her not being a virgin; indeed, he had questioned her closely upon the single affair that was all she would confess to him, and the details she gave him always helped him in his arousal. She knew that his cock at its fullness was a good seven inches and pleasantly thick--but it was rarely that it could achieve that state for any useful length of time. How unlike Brett, who . . .
He climbed onto the bed and spread himself out flat, a somewhat grotesque figure, still wearing his shirt and tie and socks.
"Suck it, sweetheart," he ordered lasciviously. "Wrap those sweet lips round it, huh?"
She obediently crouched beside him, keeping her legs a little apart so that he could play with her ass and cunt from behind, and took the rather floppy organ into her mouth.
So different from Brett's steel-hard rod that leaped and throbbed to her slightest touch!
She worked her tongue around the head, caressing his balls with one hand. He sank. his middle finger into her gelled honey-pot, and rested the tip of his thumb against her asshole. She clenched the little sphincter anxiously. He was fascinated by her ass, and she knew he was going to fuck her there sometime soon--and even Brett had never . . .
Yet . . .
The cock she worked on was responding slowly, more blood flowing into its spongy tissues, and he began to catch his breath in little sips of pleasure. He worked the impaling finger in her pussy, and suddenly pulled it out.
"Now! Now!" he cried.
His well-trained bride swung herself around to straddle him, swiftly positioning her slippery-juiced vulva over the head of his cock, and guiding it with one hand, engulfed it with the burning glove of her pussy, sinking swiftly down upon it, clutching at it with her inner muscles to preserve its elusive hardness as long. as possible.
She had to work fast. The luxury of a slow fuck wasn't possible with Keir.
She levered herself up and down, up and down, fucking him furiously. He reached up to catch her wildly bobbing breasts, palming the nipples eagerly.
Brett's cynically smiling face floated before her eyes.
"Remember it all, little sister.. . . "
"Ooooh.. . . " she sobbed.
Keir's face was flushed and sweating, teeth clenched, eyes screwed shut in concentration as she bounced up and down on his aging prick.
The photographs flashed across her mind, and with them a jumble of memories that set the very depths of her trembling and quivering, so that she increased the pace of her fucking even more. The bed groaned very slightly--even its thick mattress and luxurious springs couldn't take this kind of action without some sound of protest!
So she gave him more, her ass slapping down against his thighs, the tip of his cock slamming against her cervix, and the engorged tissues of her pussy almost steaming with the heat she was generating with every frantic stroke.
"Little sister . . . sister . . . sister.. . . "
"YAHH!" Keir gurgled, and she felt his cock shooting its load inside her.
"Brett.. . . " she moaned, and her cunt went into wild spasms that racked her whole body.
Afterwards she wondered if he had heard, but she didn't think he had. He had been too busy with his own orgasm.
Hadn't he?
CHAPTER THREE
Carol hid the book of photographs in a Tampax box and left it in the bathroom. The maids would have no reason to look inside, she thought, and certainly Keir would not. He had his own suite of rooms at the other end of the corridor, and rarely went into her bathroom anyway.
That night, after a rather tedious dinner party, she was glad to be alone and able to think about what was happening to her. Keir wouldn't want her again tonight; once a day was the most he could manage, if that. She was relieved that he had given her rooms of her own.
Her maid had filled the sunken tub for her, and was ready to wait on her, but Carol dismissed the girl and locked the bathroom door in case of any unforseen intrusion. Then she retrieved the album, climbed into the warm, scented water with its rich masses of foaming suds, and lay back luxuriously.
She put the album on the rack which stretched across the width of the tub to hold her bath accessories and opened it to the first page.
There she was, sprawled out on the bed in wanton nakedness, the pinkness of her cunt gleaming from the parted, pale-haired folds of her young Iabia.
When had Brett taken this picture? It might have been any of a number of times. . . .
Carol had been sixteen when it had started. At least, when it had started overtly. Her big brother Brett had always been somewhat of a hero to her, sometimes patronizingly kind, other times rigorously, even brutally excluding her from his masculine world, which only increased his fascination for his admiring little sister.
He had been an exceptionally handsome boy, of course, and perhaps that had something to do with it. None of Carol's male contemporaries could match up to him, and besides, they all seemed so young, used as she was to idealizing one four years older. She was always jealous of his dates, and when she found that her breasts were rounding out and her hips curving into womanly lines, she began, unconsciously, to compete with those other, older girls, copying the way the would flirt with Brett, showing herself off to him at every opportunity. She didn't fully realize the implications of what she was doing: if she thought about it analytically at all, she considered that she was just "trying to be friends with him."
Brett watched her with amusement, leading her on in his lazy way; but just as he was exceptionally good-looking, so was she, and her constant posturing and brushing against him, her ever-eager presence, started to have a more disturbing effect of his highly sexed nature than he had bargained for.
Brett had never been strong on morals or inhibitions. He had started a full sex life as early as he had been able--which was at the age of fourteen, when a neighboring housewife had invited him in for milk and cookies and had expertly groped his burgeoning teenage cock, while guiding his hand between her legs, beneath her skirt, to discover that she had forgotten to put her panties on that day. At least, so Brett told Carol later. She wasn't sure whether she believed him, but on the whole she supposed he was telling the truth!
At all events, Brett began to pat her ass affectionately, which made her feel oddly weak around the knees. Sometimes he would teasingly run a hand over her ripening young breasts, with a brotherly comment about how she was coming along--and that made her feel oddly damp around the crotch.
And sometimes he would even kiss her good-night.
On the lips.
Occasionally with the hint of a tongue flickering against her virginal but ardent lips.
He became an obsession. The thought of him haunted her night and day. She hadn't learned to masturbate, or she would undoubtedly have done so using him as her fantasy object. As it was, she would puzzle over the heat that built up between her legs, and the odd tingling that ran through her body, and wonder if something was wrong with her, and whether there was some way she could get some relief.
Then Brett went away for a week, and she was left desolate, yearning for his presence.
One of his friends, Mike Saunders, a good-looking young man with dark hair and eyes, came by; when he found Brett was away, he casually invited Carol to go with him to the drive-in. Flattered, lonesome, and thinking they could maybe talk about her beloved Brett, she accepted.
She had never dated much. Not that her parents put any very strong restrictions on her. Her father was a traveling salesman and away from home a lot of the time; her mother led her own discreet but very full private life, and paid a minimal amount of attention to her teenage daughter's activities. Even so, Carol had never been attracted enough by any of the boys her own age to take the time to date, since that meant losing opportunities to be around Brett.
But she was not unaware of Mike's attraction. And as Brett's friend, he shared in her brother's charisma. And when Mike slipped an arm around her shoulders as they gazed at the enormous screen across the dark field, she made no objection. It was somehow as though Brett were doing it.
And the same thing when he kissed her, and she gladly parted her warm young lips to allow his knowledgeable tongue to work its way inwards, exploring her mouth and dueling with her own.
She was still thinking about Brett when he dropped his hand to her breast and began to work his fingers over her nipple. She was wearing a bra, but even through the double layer of material of the bra and her sweater, the pressure felt good--tingling and warm--and again that moistness started to seep around her crotch, as it did when Brett had touched her titties.
But when he moved his other hand to her thigh, she started to get nervous. This, she thought dimly, was the start of how you got an illegitimate baby. . . .
She pushed his hand away.
He accepted her rebuff philosophically and concentrated his attention on her breasts. She let him work his hands up beneath her sweater and unfasten her bra. After all, she reasoned, Brett had touched her breasts so there couldn't be much harm in that . . . could there?
Anyway, it felt so nice!
Mike started to kiss the pert globes he had revealed, and to lick and suck at the crinkly flesh that hardened and thrust forth at their tips. And the delicious tingling filled her body and made her so weak that the next time his hand rested on her thigh she did not stop him, but let it creep slowly upwards towards the burning in her crotch. . . .
She was safe as long as he didn't . . .
"Ow!" she squealed as his hand suddenly pressed hard against the crotch of her flimsy panties.
"Hey!" he protested as she pushed him away. "Don't--jeeze, you're wet there! I never met a chick so ready for it!"
"Ready--for what?" she demanded indignantly.
"What do you think--for a good hard cock to be slipped in there! Why else is it so slippery wet?" .
She stared at him, nervous now.
Was that what it all meant?
She said: "I--I wish you'd take me home, Mike."
He frowned, then shrugged.
"Okay. It's up to you."
He waited for a moment, to see if she would change her mind, but she occupied herself with fastening her bra and adjusting her sweater, suddenly embarrassed at what she had let him do. After all he wasn't Brett! You couldn't treat a stranger the same way you could act with your brother!
Mike made no further attempt to touch her, but drove her home in silence. She thanked him politely, and wondered if he would mention the incident to Brett.
But Mike had started off a whole new train of thought.
Carol had heard of incest, of course, in the rather vague way she had heard about other variations on the basic sexual theme. She knew that if this heat, this wetness in her crotch meant that she wanted to have sex with her own brother, that would be incest.
But somehow that didn't seem to matter.
If that was the only thing that would relieve this frustration, this itching need, then that was what she must do.
Only there was the matter of babies. . . .
Carol thought that Brett would be sure to have rubbers--she wasn't too sure what they were, but with the various encounters she knew he had, he must know all about it.
When Brett returned home, Carol was alone in the house. She came running to meet., him, throwing her arms around him, plastering her body against his, mashing her mouth to his lips. His response was the automatic one of male to female for a few seconds, then he gently pushed her away.
"Well, I'm glad somebody's happy to see me," he said.
"Oh Brett," she murmured, gazing up at him in hungry adoration. "I missed you. I love you so much."
"Well, thanks," he said. "You're a good kid."
She followed him to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed while he unpacked his bag. She was wearing her shortest skirt, and had left her off her panties. She spread her legs wide, so that when he glanced up from where he was stowing clothes in the bottom dresser drawer, his startled gaze was confronted by a pink flash of pale-haired pussy.
"Uh-Carol," he started.
"Brett." She squirmed her hips slightly.
"Look--"
"You look," she challenged him boldly. And he did.
She felt the hot moisture seeping around the exposed tissues. The awareness that he was gazing at her most secret place filled her with a fierce, sweet joy.
He cleared his throat.
"What--what are you up to?"
"I--I love you, Brett."
"Do you have any idea what you're talking about?"
He stood up and confronted her. She saw that there was a bulge at the front of his pants, and inexperienced though she was in such matters, she knew what that meant.
What had Mike said?
"It's all . . . slippery wet . . . for a . . . good, hard . . . hard.. . . "
Brett shook his head bemusedly, then said: "Listen, Carol, little sister Carol, if you don't pull that skirt down and get out Of here, your big brother's gonna rape you. So scoot along, huh?"
"It's all slippery for a hard--your--hard.. . . "
"Uh . . . Carol . . . ? "
She moaned softly and sprawled backwards on the bed.
"Rape me, Brett, rape me," she whimpered.
She lay listening to the sound of his footsteps as he walked towards the bed. . . .
CHAPTER FOUR
A sharp buzz jolted Carol from her train of lascivious memories. She looked around, bewildered, then realized that it was the telephone. She had never used the bathroom extension before: one of the maids must have answered a call and switched it through to her.
How the rich live, she thought ironically, reaching for the receiver.
"Hullo?" she said curiously.
"Hello, little sister."
"Uh--hi, Brett."
"We're having lunch together tomorrow. Meet me outside the Jefferson Market Library at one, okay?"
"But suppose--"
"Suppose nothing. See you at one."
He hung up.
"Brett?" she said uselessly into the disconnected telephone, then shrugged and hung the receiver back on its hook.
Lunch with Brett.
"And what else . . . ? "
She sank back down into the foamy water. The sound of his voice, mingled with the memories she had been recalling, and the sight of the lewd photograph still propped on the rack in front of her, had all contributed to the tingling heat she was suddenly aware of between her legs.
Almost absent-mindedly, she let her hand drift down through the warm water until her fingertips rested against the deep mass of her pubic curls. Slowly she insinuated her index finger between the fleshy outer lips and rested the fingertip against the little swollen knob of her clitoris.
It was almost marble hard.
She gave her finger a very slight wriggle, and a twinge of delicious sensation thrilled through her pussy. Her nipples, untouched save by the lapping of the water, were suddenly erect, poking out of the foam like pink towers soaring through white clouds.
What am I doing? What am I letting Brett do to me?
Yet if she hadn't started the whole thing in the first place . . .
Lying back on his bed, parted legs dangling over the edge, urging him to rape her . . .
Lying with pounding heart and throbbing cunt, listening to him crossing the floor, standing beside her . . .
"Carol," he said yet again.
She spread her arms wide, eyes closed, lips parted.
"Brett," she whispered.
He touched her lightly on the left breast, and a wracking shudder seized her body.
She felt the weight of him sitting down beside her, and the pressure of his hand on her breast grew firmer. He started to work the nipple as Mike had done that night they had dated, but this was Brett, and it felt a million times better.
His other hand glided down her body and rested on her thigh. So near her craving pussy--yet not near enough. She squirmed under his touch, gasping and moaning with excitement.
Then he was lightly stroking her pubic hair, and she thought she would go out of her mind. She thrust her hips upward so that her pussy was thrust firmly against his hand, and he cupped the whole throbbing, virginal area, squeezing gently, deliciously, so that she almost swooned with joy.
Then he took his hand off her breast and reached for one of hers and guided it to rest on the bulge at the front of his pants. She felt it wonderingly, marveling at its alive hardness, and then she wanted it desperately, and started to fumble with his zipper. He helped her open his pants, and a moment later the hot, pulsing, silk-skinned joystick was in her hand.
She opened her eyes and looked at it.
It was long, thick; its head was shaped like a blunted arrow, and it was colored a brownish-purple. It moved a little as she held it, with the action of his pumping blood.
And it was hard--soft on the outside, with skin she could move a little, but its core felt like tempered steel.
Remembering, Carol found herself rubbing her forefinger gently along one side of the valley of her labia. The movement of the water against her cunt gave the sensations an added dimension. For a moment she pressed against the thrusting hardness of her clitoris and held her breath with pleasure then she ran her fingertip down to the tight entrance between the inner lips, and worked it inside. The lubricating mucus was flowing too fast now for the water to carry it away, anti, her finger glided smoothly inside her, into the magic cavern of delight.
Brett had worked a finger into her that first time. While she worked his cock in her hand, rapidly learning the skill, alert to his tiny cues of pleasure or otherwise, he had set his finger against the virgin bud of her vulva and had slowly worked it inwards, lubricated by her copious honey.
"You're a virgin, Carol," he said.
"Yes . . . for you, Brett . . . for you . . . I"
"Listen--when do you have your period?"
"Huh?"
"When's your period due?"
It was hard to think with such overwhelming distraction--all she wanted to do was sob out her delight, but she forced herself to think and to reply.
"Oh, not till Friday, Brett--it's okay."
"It's safe then.. . . "
Later, of course, she would know better than to trust to the closeness of her period for contraception, but she was willing to follow his lead blindly that first day.
He pulled his finger out of her, and she gasped.
"Move up the bed some," he urged her.
She let go of his cock and shuffled herself upward until her head rested on the pillow.
She looked at him again--he was stripping off his clothes.
She should be naked too.
She sat up and tugged her sweater over her head and dragged at the fastening of her bra, tearing the hooks in her, eagerness to be free of it. She peeled her skirt down over her hips, tossed the whole collection of garments onto the floor, and lay back down again before Brett had quite finished his undressing.
She loved the hard strength of his twenty-year-old body; the strength of his face; the crispness of his sandy hair; the hard, purple, jutting cock that sprang so arrogantly from his loins as he climbed onto the bed beside her.
"Brett, oh, Brett," she moaned.
"Carol--you--you really want this?"
She nodded, gazing at him with blue eyes shining with worshipful hunger, her eyes caressing his handsome face, the powerful chest, the flat belly and slim waist and narrow hips. And that focus of her desire: the throbbing, fleshy spear of heated meat that waited to impale her.
But it was because it belonged to Brett that she wanted it so. It was part of him; never for a moment did she lose sight of that.
He stretched out beside her on the bed, and with one hand he stroked along the length of her slender but ripe young body. His fingertips gently titillated one of her nipples, which was already hard and eager like its partner.
Her pussy tormented her with its itching heat, but she resoled to let him take command, to teach her, to show her what he wanted--and what she wanted!
"You're beautiful, little sister," he whispered, leaning on one elbow. With his other hand he continued his soft caresses, his eyes devouring her sweet nakedness.
Timidly, she stretched out her own hand and stroked his chest. He leaned over and kissed her.
As their tongues explored each other's mouth and battled together in an erotic duel, he rolled over on top of her, letting most of his weight rest on her eagerly receptive body. She spread her legs wide, relishing the sensation of his hot, iron-hard prick throbbing between their bellies. She hooked her legs up around his hips to draw him still closer, and felt the soft brushing of his balls against the cheeks of her ass.
After long minutes of kissing, he shifted to kneel beside her. He pressed one hand between her thighs as he had before, covering the whole burning area of her outer cunt with one large, warm hand. She thrust her pelvis up against the firm pressure, avid for more friction. Then again he had slipped a finger deep into the fluid channel of her cunt, and she moaned and quivered with ecstasy.
He worked the finger in and out a few times, then pulled it right out; but before she had time to mourn its absence, he had thrust back in again, this time with two fingers.
One finger, two fingers--then three. There was a little pain now, mingled with the pleasure, but she accepted it gladly.
Then at last he pulled out the fingers and moved to kneel between her legs.
"Bend your knees up," he whispered, and she obeyed, parting them widely. He ducked his head and kissed her again, and planted a kiss on each of her thrusting nipples, then he positioned the heated arrowhead of his rigid cock at the juicy lips of her aching, craving honey-pot.
He rocked forward, and she felt it pressing against her inflamed vulva. It seemed enormous! She gasped and made a little upward jerk with her pelvis. He pushed down, and suddenly it was in; there was a quick, ripping pain that made her scream and stiffen, and--Oh, and then he was all the way inside her, and she was filled to the utmost with his wonderful hardness.
She was filled with Brett, her beloved brother!
It took her breath away for a moment. It was so wonderful! She had wanted this so long! He looked down at her intently.
"You okay, Carol?"
She nodded dazedly, and he moved his hips a little so that his enormous rod slid an inch out of her, then back in. There was another moment of pain as it, scraped over the broken hymen, but the pain was rapidly consumed in the delicious ecstasy that seemed to radiate outward from that steely core that was now the center of her own being. The walls of her inner pussy channel seemed to contract and clutch at him, grabbing and unyielding bulk of the penetrating phallus in an eager welcome.
Then he started to slide in and out of her, just a little way at first until she had started to respond to his rhythm with her own hips and pelvis. And it seemed no time at all before the mind-shattering waves of pleasure began to consume her. She could hear the liquid sounds as his invincible probe drove into her cunt, and she felt as though her whole body were on fire.
And now she found that the movement of his cock in and out grew more wonderful with every stroke, so that the tingling anticipation grew ever more intense, ever closer to something she could only guess at until it actually happened.
And then she was screaming, her body convulsing in wild spasms, and all her being was concentrated in that raging fire between her legs and the huge pulsing waves of unbelievable delight that throbbed and beat through her cunt, through her belly, through every inch of her no-longer virginal body. . . .
Oh, and she had never been free of him after that!
He hooked me, Carol thought, bitterness mingled with a shameful pleasure at the knowledge that his special gift of ecstasy was going to be made available to her once again.
Beneath the water, her finger caressed her own pussy more and more urgently.
What would happen tomorrow? She was sure that Brett had something more in mind than merely lunch.
Yes, he had started playing those games when she was still sixteen, games that had dragged her further and further into the valley of degradation that their incestuous affair had begun--yet in that valley was such delight that she had always ended by following him willingly. It was enough that he coaxed her, led her, commanded her.
Was all that going to start again? Was she once more to be a helpless victim of her own lascivious passion for her brother, so that she was unable to resist him when he wanted to put her at the disposal of his friends; when he wanted her to experiment with exotic forms of sensual expression that she would have refused had anyone else demanded them?
A .quiver of fear went through her--but it was accompanied by a delicious tingle in her clitoris that convinced her that it was indeed true.
And as she increased the play of her finger to release the explosive climax, she was filled with the conviction that there was no way she could resist, or even, deep-down, wanted to resist in the fact that she was her brother's incestuous sex-slave.
CHAPTER FIVE
"But where are we going?" she asked as he hurried her through a tangle of Greenwich Village streets. She didn't know where they were now; the names of the streets had ceased to be familiar.
"You'll see," he told her briefly.
A couple of minutes later he turned to guide her down a narrow mews, and through a tall wrought-iron gate set in a high wall.
"Brett, where are we?"
"You'd be none the wiser if I told you. We're going to have some lunch."
It was a large brownstone, impeccably kept, its windows filled with geraniums and petunias. Brett rang the door buzzer several times, in an odd little rhythm, and a few moments later the door was swung open . . .
By a girl totally naked except for a pair of very high-heeled shoes and a pert little lace maid's cap perched on her flowing mass of shoulder-length black hair.
Carol stared disbelievingly.
The girl smiled sweetly.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Harker, Madame."
She held the door for them to step inside, then closed it carefully behind them.
Carol's attention was distracted from the naked girl long enough to look around the wide lobby in which they were standing--it was somehow womblike, with a preponderance of red velvet and gilt trimmings, and massive mirrors stretching along the walls. An elaborate crystal chandelier provided the illumination.
"Good old whorehouse style," Brett commented cheerfully, "but it can be effective, I always think."
The naked girl said: "Will you follow me, please?" and started off towards the wide staircase. Her bottom cheeks jiggled and bounced alluringly as she climbed, and Carol was shocked to discover that she felt an urge to touch them. The skin looked so white, the flesh so firm. . . .
She glanced guiltily up at Brett.
"Nice ass, isn't it?" he remarked casually.
"I--uh--guess so," Carol stammered.
Women weren't supposed to think those things about other women, for heaven's sake!
Brett gave her a wry little smile. "Like to see what it feels like, huh?"
"No--no! Of course not,"
But she could feel a flush of embarrassment staining her face and neck.
"Listen," she went on hastily, "what kind of a place is this, Brett? Is it a club or--what?"
"Yes. I have a stake in it, as a matter-of-fact--both kinds: momentary and sirloin. They serve the best steaks in the city. And a few other things."
Carol licked her lips nervously as they reached the top of the first flight and the girl opened a door ahead of them and ushered them into a large room. This would have been the parlor floor when the brownstone was a private house, of course.
It was rather like a restaurant: there were tables arranged in booths around three sides of the room, with wide, deeply upholstered benches. The middle area of the room was empty except for an odd collection of what looked like pieces of sectional couches, of different heights and widths.
The girl asked: "Is there any particular table you'd like, Mr. Harker? There aren't many people here yet, you can see."
Brett reached out and casually fondled the girl's enticing bottom as he surveyed the room.
Carol looked too: there were three couples in the booths--one couple consisted of two women. They didn't look at all surprised at this place, she thought nervously.
"Carol," Brett said, "you have to feel this ass--it's really a superb specimen. Come here."
"No, Brett, I--"
"Carol.. . . "
His eyes caught hers and bored into them. The message was twofold: Do as I say or I'll show those photographs to your husband. Do as I say or you won't get the sex you crave.
"Ohhh.. . . "
Reluctantly, she stretched out her hand and brushed the fingertips lightly over the rounded hemisphere.
"No, get a good feel." Brett gave the girl a light slap. "See how resilient it is. Feel how smooth her skin is. Do you like having your ass played with?" he asked the girl.
"Oh, I love it," she assured him with unmistakable sincerity, smiling up at him languidly.
Carol felt a pang of jealousy as Brett smiled back.
She planted her hand firmly on the girl's ass. It did feel nice, but of course it was just a matter of textures and--and--well, textures. . . .
"We'll take the corner booth there," Brett said.
Carol dropped her hand and the girl preceded them to the table he indicated, and offered to take Carol's light summer coat. She handed it over meekly.
The girl returned a moment later with two large menus which she placed in front of them.
"A drink, Mr. Harker--Madame?"
They ordered martinis, and Brett leaned back in his seat and smiled at Carol as though this were a perfectly ordinary lunch date in a perfectly ordinary restaurant.
"What would you like to eat?" he asked. She was glad to turn her attention to the menu.
"Everything's excellent," he assured her. "Don't be afraid to order anything you like--it won't disappoint you."
Carol made her selection, then glanced around the room. There were other naked waitresses, or hostesses, or whatever they were: another brunette, a redhead, a blonde, on attending to each table. She was shocked, although she shouldn't have been, to see that the other lunchers fondled them with as much freedom as Brett had shown--even the women. She stared outright as one of the two women at the table nearby inserted a finger into the pussy of the redheaded waitress and worked it in and out several times. The redhead stood with legs slightly parted, resting a hand on the table to keep her balance, a look of dreamy pleasure on her face.
The woman, who looked about forty, smartly dressed in austere clothes of impeccable taste, finally withdrew her finger, raised it delicately to her nostrils, then extended it across the table to her companion, who was considerably younger, dressed in the fashionable 'fifties style. This other woman opened her lips and took the finger between them, sucking it clean as coolly as though tasting a popsicle.
Brett caught Carol's eye, and she blushed again.
The brunette came back to take their food order. This time Brett reached up to caress her high, firm breasts as she wrote on a little note-pad she carried.
"Nice tits, too," he said to Carol. She waited nervously for him to order her to touch them, but he didn't, to her relief.
Or was it, perhaps, disappointment?
While they were sipping their drinks, the older woman from the female couple rose and came over to them. She leaned down and kissed Brett lightly on the cheek.
"How nice to see you," she said warmly. She looked inquiringly at Carol.
"My sister Carol--Charlotte Yonge."
Charlotte smiled at Carol in a friendly way.
"Who's that you're with?" Brett asked curiously.
"Oh, that's Susan Warner--my agent's taken her on as a junior partner, and we're--uh--getting to know each other."
"Are you working on a book just now?" Brett asked.
"Mmmmm. An illustrated history of the orgy throughout history. I think I'll call it The Daisy Chain. Well, I see they're bringing my chateaubriand--I'll see you both later."
Carol watched her return to her own table, then turned to Brett, wide-eyed.
"Is she a--a--lesbian?" she whispered.
Brett shrugged.
"I suppose so," he replied casually. "Among other things. She's pretty versatile in her tastes."
The waitress brought the appetizers they had ordered: shrimp cocktail for Brett and a slice of melon for the figure-conscious Carol.
She had just taken the first bite when her attention was arrested by the entry of a tall, powerfully built man clad in Levi's, T-shirt and a construction worker's hard hat. He strode into the room and stood looking arrogantly about. His eyes lighted on Carol, and he gave her a vulgar leer and a broad wink. She looked away hastily, puzzled as to what he was doing here in these elegant if decadent surroundings.
She looked back at him, but less directly, and saw that he was standing with his legs apart, thumbs hooked into his belt. The eyes of the other couples were all fixed upon him, and there was an air of anticipation in the room.
He spoke.
"Anyone here wanna suck my dick?" he demanded harshly.
There was a slight pause, then a woman rose from her seat with a smile to her escort, and leisurely made her way out of her booth and over to where the man stood waiting.
"I guess I'll take you up on that offer," she drawled.
Like Charlotte Yonge, she was dressed in expensive good taste, immaculately groomed. Carol stared in black astonishment.
Brett told her in an undertone: "That's Marianne Bennet, the shipping magnate's widow. Her stepson, Vincent Bennet, is the guy with her."
"Her--stepson? Brings her to a place like this?"
"Correction." Brett smiled narrowly. "She brought him. I hear she's been teaching him a lot since the old man kicked off and left her all those millions."
Carol could only shake her head dazedly.
Marianne Bennet and the construction worker were looking each other over.
The man growled arrogantly: "If you want it, you'll have to fish it out, bitch."
She made a motion toward his fly with one hand, but he fended her off.
"With your teeth," he added.
She shrugged and smiled, and with an easy, graceful movement, sank to her knees in front of him.
Carol whispered to Brett: "Is she really going to do that? Right there in front of all these people?"
"Sure, why not? Eat your melon."
Mechanically, Carol took another mouthful of the ice-cold fruit, but her eyes were riveted in horrified yet lustful anticipation on the couple in the middle of the room.
Marianne was pressing her lips against the front of the construction worker's pants, working to grasp the tap of his zipper between her teeth.
Carol took another spoonful of melon. She was strongly aware that Brett was watching her, rather than the shameless exhibition that was beginning in front of them.
Marianne made a tugging movement downward. It took several tries before the zipper finally slid all the way down its track, and she nuzzled into the opening she had made, using her teeth to pull aside the cloth of his pants.
Carol felt a quiver of excitement in her pussy. She wasn't sure whether it was caused by the lewd spectacle she was watching, or by the knowledge that her brother was watching her and her reactions.
The construction worker's prick came struggling out of confinement, and Carol almost choked over her melon.
The thing was enormous. It must have been at least ten inches long, she thought, and looked almost as thick around as one of her own wrists. It was flushed in angry brownish-red and was so knotted with veins that it looked almost like a ritual phallus carved from some exotic wood.
Still on her knees, Marianne slid her hands beneath the construction worker's balls, hefting them, then she licked around the dome of his cockhead in a leisurely way. The immense rod pulsed visibly as her tongue circled the well-defined glans ridge, and then explored the little slit at the end.
"You think you could take that thing?" Brett asked Carol in a casual tone.
She shot him a startled glance and shook her head vehemently, alarmed at the mere prospect.
Marianne was licking right down to the base now, bathing the whole length of the impossible shaft with long sweeps of her pink tongue. Her eyes were half closed in a voluptuous dreaminess that vas somehow enhanced by the fact that she was still fully dressed and groomed to perfection.
"She's a good cocksucker," Brett observed, but even she's going to have trouble getting much of that in her mouth--I don't know if her lips can stretch so wide."
Even as he spoke, Marianne began to mouth the broad crown of the cock, forcing her lips over its diameter until the first three inches had vanished inside her severely stretched mouth.
Brett gave an appreciative little grunt, and chewed on a shrimp with unabated relish.
Slowly Marianne was working the cock further into her mouth, into her throat. She had a look of intense yet faraway concentration on her beautiful face as the huge cylinder of flesh slowly disappeared within her throat.
"She'll have to change the angle if she wants to get it all," said Brett. "Either that or the prick's gonna have to bend a time or two!"
Marianne was withdrawing now, releasing the several inches she had consumed. The angrily flushed meat reappeared, glistening with the woman's saliva.
Marianne stood up and looked at the 'sectional couch' pieces. Two of the naked waitresses came scurrying forward and helped her arrange three of them into a couch.
Marianne stretched herself out on them, and beckoned to the construction worker, a sweet smile on her face.
The man was peeling off his tight-fitting levis. He swung himself up onto the couch and straddled her, resting his taut, muscular buttocks against the firm pillows of her tits. His cock angled out alarmingly, just grazing her chin, his balls dangling below.
He rocked his hips forward a little and slid the head of his cock back inside her eagerly opened mouth. She closed her straining lips around the dome and Carol could imagine how she was licking and sucking, filling her mouth with her own saliva and his dripping pre-coital juice. . . .
After a couple of minutes, the construction worker drew his cockhead out of her mouth and hitched himself higher, dangling his hairy balls over her face. Carol stared at them, fascinated, two heavy weights in their wrinkled pouch of pinkish-brown skin.
Marianne opened her mouth again and let one of the male eggs rest upon her parted lips, poking at it delicately with her tongue. Then she drew the whole thing into her mouth, and he started to grunt with pleasure.
Vincent, Marianne's stepson, had left the booth and was standing by the couch, watching the action intently.
The construction worker lifted his balls free of Marianne's face and moved higher, kneeling over her head. He swung himself right around, facing the other way, so that his enormous cock now pointed in the same direction as her throat.
Slowly the huge thing was consumed once again, this time gradually sinking all the way to the base.
"Oh, god!" Carol murmured involuntarily.
"Priapus, you mean?" Brett teased her.
She hardly heard him.
Slowly, slowly, in and out the phallic monster glided. It seemed to go on for hours, an incredible exhibition.
Brett beckoned to their waitress.
"Does that excite you?" he asked her blandly, nodding towards the exhibition.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Harker," the naked brunette replied.
"Carol," Brett said, "see if she's telling the truth."
She looked at him, puzzled.
"Go on," he urged. "Feel her pussy. See if she's wet."
Carol was taken aback. Touching the girl's ass was one thing, but this "Go on," Brett said softly.
And his eyes flashed their compelling twofold message once again.
CHAPTER SIX
Carol stared at her brother for a long minute. His blue eyes returned her gaze quizzically, and the message grew still more urgent and compelling.
She had no choice, she knew, but to follow his outrageous instructions.
The naked black-haired waitress, hearing his suggestion, had moved over to stand beside Carol, legs set apart to give her access for her explorations.
Carol remembered what the woman Charlotte at the table over there had done with the nude redhead. She shot a glance over to see what Charlotte was doing now: the woman was coolly eating her lunch, glancing almost casually from time to time at the laborious cock-sucking in the middle of the room, then returning to her intimate conversation with Susan.
"Go ahead," Brett urged his sister.
Carol took a deep breath.
She set down the melon spoon she had been clutching and slowly, timidly reached towards the girl's parted thighs. Her pubic hair was thick and gleaming, fluffed up as though it had been recently combed.
The waitress thrust her pelvis slightly forward, and the movement parted the black-ringleted labia slightly, allowing a gleam of dark-coral tissue to show forth.
Carol's cautious fingertips grazed against the pubic curls, then glided between the white-skinned thighs. Reluctantly, she pressed her fingers against the open slit.
She felt a warm, slick, membranous firmness.
"Wet?" asked Brett.
"I--uh--guess so."
"Wiggle your fingers around a little," her brother suggested with a lascivious wink.
Carol gulped, and unwillingly complied.
It was a strange sensation. The shapes, the textures, were like those of her own cunt, more or less, but she was accustomed to those shapes and textures beneath her fingers being accompanied by corresponding sensations of sexual sensation. Handling this dark-haired cunt was all one-sided as far as she was concerned; her only feedback was from the slightly increased slickness and sharply indrawn breath from the girl as Carol's fingers worked over the intimate tissues.
Brett announced: "Seeing Marianne working over that big dick makes me want a blowjob myself."
Brett wanted his lovely cock sucked. . . .
Here?
He caught her eye and grinned.
"You don't want to give me head in public?" he asked with a consideration she knew held a trap.
Uncertainly, she shook her head.
"Well, that's okay," he said cheerfully. "I'm sure our little brunette will be glad to do it for me."
Carol was astonished at the pang of jealousy that flashed through her at the suggestion.
She didn't want any other woman to touch Brett! Ever! He was hers! Hers!
He looked at her mockingly, and she knew that he was precisely aware of what was going through her mind.
"Brett," she protested weakly, "I.. . . "
But could she bear to make such an exhibition of herself as Marianne was doing?
She looked back at the spectacle in the middle of the room.
Marianne had abandoned her ardent deep-throating of the construction worker now, and he was lying on his back while she crouched over him, concentrating on sucking the head of his cock and the upper part of the shaft.
Vincent, her stepson, was kneeling beside her, his hand out of sight beneath her skirt, evidently caressing her cunt while she worked on her cocksucking task.
As Carol watched, the redheaded waitress joined the group; she reached for the front of Vincent's pants and unfastened them, fishing out his leaping cock and starting to stroke it. Vincent reached up to fondle the redhead's high, pert breasts with his free hand, continuing to work on his stepmother's pussy with theme other.
Carol wondered suddenly whether Keir had ever been to this place. She thought he would like it immensely. He loved to watch sex happening. He had made her watch pornographic movies with him in the privacy of the special screening room in their luxurious mansion. . . .
Almost absent-mindedly, Carol slipped a finger into the brunette waitress's slick, juicy vagina.
"Mmmmmm.. . . " the girl moaned, squirming her pelvis a little in avid response.
Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Carol took her hand right away. It was sticky with the dark girl's juices, and she wiped it hastily on her napkin.
Brett made a motion with his head to the waitress and she went to him. He said something in a low voice that Carol couldn't hear, and she nodded, and went away.
Brett turned his attention back to the group in the middle of the room. Had he forgotten about the blowjob, Carol wondered. She also looked back at the wanton group.
The construction worker was bucking his hips now, uncontrollably, evidently on the verge of coming. Marianne's hair was considerably disarranged by this time, her clothes starting to be crumpled and tossed. Her skirt had worked high up along her thighs, and there was a gleam of pale flesh above her smoke-hued stockings. Her stepson was still fondling her pussy, but the redheaded waitress was sucking his cock now instead of merely stroking it. Vincent was obviously enjoying the action thoroughly.
Brett said suddenly: "Our waitress will be back in a couple of minutes to give me my blowjob."
She looked at him.
"Unless, of course," he went on nonchalantly, "you've changed your mind about not wanting to do that for me in public."
"Brett.. . . "
"Of course," he added, "when I remember some of the things you and I--and people--used to do when you were a teenager, it doesn't seem so outrageous a thing to ask."
She felt herself blushing with the exciting, shameful memories his words conjured up.
And of course, some of those things were recorded in that treacherous little photograph album that was tucked away in her bathroom at home.
She didn't want the waitress to touch his adored cock. She wanted it, every bit of it, every drop of his semen, for herself, herself alone. . . .
"AAARRRGGCHHH!"
With an animal bellow, the construction worker reached his violent climax, grabbing Marianne's head and pressing it down against his groin while he sank his cock back to its deepest length in her throat and erupted out his volcanic cascade of boiling hot sperm.
As though goaded beyond endurance, Vincent suddenly pulled his cock out of the redhead's mouth, pushed his stepmother's skirt the rest of the way up, ripped down her flimsy panties with one angry grab, and thrust his rigid erection in up to the hilt into her cunt at one stroke.
Marianne sprawled forward onto the construction worker's chest, sperm dripping from her mouth, her face contorted from almost choking to death and with the ecstatic friction of her stepson's cock plowing unmercifully into her from behind.
The construction worker, still gasping from the exertion of his massive orgasm, reached down beneath her and evidently contacted her clitoris, for she suddenly convulsed, and her stepson hung on grimly, pouring out his own seed into his stepmother's pussy as her cries of ecstasy filled the room.
The redheaded waitress fingered her own pussy thoughtfully as she watched, but didn't reach a climax; it was as though she were merely keeping herself at a gentle simmer in readiness for any future action that might crop up.
"Well?" Brett asked insistently.
Carol, helplessly, nodded.
"All right, Brett," she said weakly. "I'll do it."
He nodded approval.
"Good," he said. "But we may as well wait until after dinner. It'll make a good low-calorie dessert for you."
She glowered at him with a mixture of resentment and desire, and her treacherous pussy surprised her with a sudden throb of wanting sensation.
The little group was slowly dispersing. Marianne left her ripped panties on the couch and accepted her stepson's arm as he led her back to the booth. The construction worker picked up the wisp of nylon and wiped his cock, then stood up. He hauled his Levi's back up over his hips and fastened his belt, but left his fly gaping open, his amazing cock hanging out, dangling for all to see.
Even flaccid, it was an impressive sight, a good six inches of thick flesh resting against a pair of testicles that looked to Carol almost the size of tennis balls.
"Goodness," she said faintly. "He--uh--he certainly is well endowed, isn't he!"
The construction worker seemed aware of her fascinated gaze, for he caught her eye and winked, and strode across the room to their table. Carol shrank back onto her seat a little as he loomed over her.
"You wanna cop a feel, little lady?" he boomed cheerfully. "Go right ahead."
She stared at the dangling, vein-knotted flesh tube with a mixture of alarm and ashamed attraction.
"Why don't you feel it, as he says?" Brett's voice was saying light-heartedly.
"Yeah," the construction worker breathed. "Or maybe you only go for gash, huh? I saw how you was feelin' up that cute little black-haired number while that broad was suckin' me off just a while back."
"Oh, no," Carol protested involuntarily, "I don't . . . I'm not . . . I mean.. . . "
Almost desperately, she reached out and curled her fingers around the flaccid prick--even soft, her fingers could only just encompass its frightening girth.
At the touch of her fingers it stirred and began to stiffen, and she felt as if she had taken hold of a snake which was alive in her grasp. Hastily she let go, but to her alarm, the blood continued to pump into the fleshy club and it angled outwards in a series of sharp little jerks.
"Man, that's some fast recovery time you have," Brett commented with admiration.
"Yeah. It does that special for cute little blondes with big beautiful tits."
The huge cock was pointing straight out at right angles from his body now.
"Would you like to see them?" Brett invited.
"Brett!" Carol gasped, and once again she found the blood rushing to her face.
"Yeah, I'd like that fine," the construction worker agreed, licking his lips.
"Open up your blouse, Carol," Brett commanded.
She shot him a pleading look, but there was the message in his eyes--and he puckered his lips slightly in a mimed kiss that sent a great hot wave of sexual tingling sweeping the length of her body, sapping the last remnants of her will to resist. Brett wanted her to show this man her tits. . . .
Her fingers popped the buttons of her blouse out of their holes, one by one, until the garment was open. She slid it off, and reached behind herself to unfasten her bra. She slipped that off too, and her big, beautifully shaped breasts were revealed to all the attentive eyes in the room, their deep-colored nipples hardening to attention.
"Whoo-ee! That's real nice!" the construction worker murmured. His prick heaved itself up until it was aimed straight up his belly, its blood-engorged, swollen head leaking a thin silvery stream of viscous fluid.
He said brusquely: "Come an' sit on the end of the bench here, lady, huh?"
She glanced at Brett and he nodded. Meekly she moved along the banquette so that she sat facing out into the room, and he moved to stand directly in front of her. He set his legs apart, one on either side of her knees, which brought his rampaging cock to the level of her naked breasts. The musky sweat-smell of him filled her nostrils, half repulsive, half primitively aphrodisiac.
He grasped his cock in one hand and touched its dripping head to her left breast, poking the little dark-lipped slit against the rigid nipple as though to engulf it. The sticky cock juice ran down her breast and she shivered at the contact. Brett had left his seat and was standing watching close by. She could feel his blue-eyed, lascivious gaze caressing her.
Avidly, the construction worker wiped the head of his cock all over her breasts, leaving a slimy trail; finally he reached out his hands and set them on the outsides of her breasts and squeezed them together into a fleshy tunnel and slid his prick up between them.
She stared down at its enormous head as it rose and retreated, rose and retreated, and suddenly he had let go of her breasts and was thrusting his cock towards her mouth.
"You as good a cocksucker as that other broad?" came the husky question.
"Show him, Carol," Brett murmured.
The great prick-dome pressed against her lips. It was too big to get into her mouth, which was smaller than Marianne's, so she licked it lavishly, swiping her tongue. around the glans, lapping up the bland fluid that dripped out in ever greater quantities.
Her pussy was leaking juice too, she realized after a while. She was sitting in a little patch of dampness. She wondered with a hazy portion of her mind whether the juice was soaking right through her panties to stain her skirt.
"Here's your lunch coming, lady," she heard the construction worker say, and she thought he meant he was going to shoot, but instead he backed away, and "with bewildered eyes, she saw the naked, black-haired waitress standing there with a little serving cart laden with dishes.
"Yours was the poached salmon, Madame?" she asked politely.
"Oh . . . yes.. . . " Carol stammered.
The construction worker backed away and turned toward the table where Charlotte and Susan sat. Brett resumed his seat as the waitress started to set the dishes on the table.
Carol groped vaguely towards her discarded bra and blouse, but Brett said: "Leave them off, little sister. Give everybody a treat. It's not often they get to see such a lovely pair of boobies--is it, baby?" he asked the waitress.
"They're lovely, Mr. Harker," the brunette agreed seriously, and smiled at Carol.
Weakly, Carol smiled back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Carol's hands were trembling slightly. She ate her lunch slowly, enjoying it; all her senses were responsive, including that off taste.
She watched the construction worker make his way slowly around the booths, to be handled and admired and sucked, by the men as well as the women. He was a kind of symbol of sensuality, a living incarnation of the priapic god, the very essence of the male sexual principle.
The little constellation of naked waitresses moved around the room also, attending to the wants of the lunchers, willingly submitting to casual and not so casual caresses.
Brett looked at Carol's tits a lot, clearly enjoying the sight across the table. And she enjoyed his enjoyment, which kept the lascivious tingling sensations at a low but constant level. The juice continued to ooze from her pussy.
When their waitress returned to clear away the plates from their main course and ask them if they wanted dessert, Carol stiffened slightly. Was Brett going to make her blow him now, as he had suggested earlier?
She didn't really know why the prospect should worry her. The people in the room had watched the construction worker slide his cock around her breasts, had watched her mouth and lick the enormous rod lasciviously.
"Coffee?" Brett asked her, and she nodded.
The construction worker had finished the round of the booths, without having come again, and now he had wandered back to the middle of the room where he stood gently massaging his rigid erection, as though trying to make up his mind how he wanted to finally dispose of it.
The redheaded waitress paused beside him and took over the job of stroking it for a few minutes, lovingly fondling its hard length, reaching beneath it to tickle his balls.
He said something to her, and to Carol's astonishment, the redhead moved around behind him, knelt, and started to lick the small tight cheeks of his ass.
He planted his legs somewhat apart, and Carol saw that the girl was separating the cheeks of his ass with her hand, and was licking along the cleft. She pressed her face hard against the crack, and the construction worker's face grimaced with pleasure as she worked on him.
"She must have her tongue halfway up his asshole by the look of him," Brett chuckled.
Carol swallowed, revolted.
Brett perceived her reaction.
"How would you like to stick your tongue up my asshole?" he asked her casually.
"Oh, Brett--I"
The waitress brought the coffee.
Brett said: "I think my sister wants our big-dicked friend to fuck her in a few minutes."
"Brett!" Carol protested again, not sure whether he was serious or just teasing her.
"It's the chance of a lifetime, little sister," he told her ironically. "It's not every day you come across a cunt-stretcher like that one."
"Brett, I--I couldn't! He's so--he's much too big!" she pleaded nervously.
"He's not nearly as big as a baby's head," he assured her. "Don't forget your pussy's designed to expand. Why not give it a little practice?"
"He--he'd wreck me!"
"No, no," he murmured soothingly. "You're going to enjoy it, Carol, baby." He turned to the waitress. "See if it's okay with him, will your "Yes, of course."
He smiled at Carol as the brunette scurried away.
"I'll look after you, little sister," he said confidently. "Did I ever make you do anything you didn't enjoy--eventually, at any rate!"
She shook her head dumbly, terrified at the prospect of being split and impaled by that monstrous phallic weapon.
"Why," he went on reminiscently, "I remember how nervous you were when I first wanted you to blow me--you remember that?"
She stared at him. Yes, she did remember.
It was two days after their first wonderful fucking session, after he had popped her cherry. He had screwed her five times since then, at almost every opportunity they could manage to be alone together, relishing his sister's fresh, almost virginal body and her ardent total response to him. Her sheer eager willingness to fuck him was an enormous turn-on; even the hottest of the girls he dated felt it incumbent on themselves to play games of feminine coyness part of the time, but with Carol there were no such reservations.
But he wanted more from her than just plain fucking. He wanted the refinements he had grown used to.
They had undressed and snuggled together on her bed when their mother had gone out for the evening--she usually went out, so that was nothing unusual.
Carol was lovingly stroking Brett's hard cock, which twitched and throbbed with its own strange, apparently independent life force in her hand.
"Goodness," she whispered. "It is big, isn't it?"
As though responding to her adoration, his cock reached up towards her, pulsing through-out the length of its prominent veins, the head and upper part blood-suffused to a dusky brownish-purple shade.
"You like it, don't you, little sister?" he asked her lazily, grinning down at her affectionately.
"It's so big," she said again, wonderingly.
"I bet you could make it even bigger than that with a few licks of your sweet little red tongue," he told her, and waited for her reaction.
"Why, Brett!" she exclaimed indignantly. "That's--filthy! It's--perverted! It's--it's--"
"It's delicious," he said simply. "And when you've done that, maybe I'll do the same thing for you."
She stared at him, deeply shocked. He was even further aroused by her inexperience.
"All my other girlfriends do it," he said slyly, and saw the flash of jealousy cross her face. He had discovered that mentioning his other girls was an unfailing goad. She would do almost anything to prove to him that she was all he needed, and that he had no call to go out on any other dates. And this early on in the affair, he was willing to humor her in that.
"It's quite clean, you know," he told her. "I showered only half an hour ago--I haven't even taken a piss since then. What are you worried about?"
"But--" she protested, "you--you do use it for--for that--and--and--"
"Yes," he said patiently, "but when it's hard, there's no way any piss is going to get into it, Carol. There's a sort of shut-off valve in there that blocks it off. That's one reason there's that juice that comes out when it's hard--that cleans out any piss that might be there, because piss kills sperm, you see. It's just a natural safe-guard."
"But--"
"Come on, baby. Show me what you can do, huh? I like to get my cock sucked--and I want you to do it."
"Couldn't we just--well, do it the usual way?" she begged pathetically.
"Later. But right now I want you to suck it," he persisted obstinately. "If you don't want to do it, I'll go find somebody who'll enjoy taking it in her mouth and working her tongue around it and--"
He made a slight move as though to get off the bed, and she clutched at him urgently.
"No, no," she protested. "I--oh, Brett--all right . . . I'll do it . . . I'll.. . . "
She ducked her head cautiously towards the upward-straining prick and took a deep, resolute breath. The smell of him filled her nostrils, a mixture of fresh sweat and recently applied soap. To her surprise, the odor sent a twinge of excitement through her body, into her pussy.
Cautiously she poked out her tongue, and its questing tip lightly contracted the tautly stretched skin of the domed head. It tasted of skin to her surprise--she didn't know quite what she had expected, but had been prepared for something that would revolt her. But in fact its soft texture over the throbbing, steely inner core filled her with an odd delight.
"Give it a good lick, Carol," Brett instructed her.
She swept her tongue in a broad trail of moisture around the ridge of his glans then pulled her head back a little and looked at the wet gleam of her own saliva on that fiery, pulsating cock flesh.
He stroked hex hair approvingly.
"Put it right in your mouth," he ordered.
Meekly she encircled the thrusting cockhead with her young, rosy lips and let it glide into her mouth until it reached the point where further penetration made her feel as though she was about to choke.
She wrapped her fingers around the lower part of the shaft to control it, and waited to see what he would tell her to do next, uncertain how to proceed.
Brett's voice was hoarse with arousal.
"Take it out and lick it some more--lick it all over, up and down, all round."
She let it slide out, and with her hand still curled around it, she started to caress the ridge of the arrow-shaped head with her tongue, then licked along the sides of the shaft, tracing the path of the large vein on the underside down to its hair-shrouded roots. The musky odor of his masculine sweat was stronger here, and she took a deep breath to inhale it.
Then she worked her way leisurely back up along the under surface until she reached the little knot of nerves just below the head. She had learned from handling him that this was an especially sensitive place, so she thrust her hot wet tongue tip against the spot and he rewarded her with a deep groan of pleasure, jerking his hips in uncontrollable response.
Now his pre-coital juice started to well out like a little spring from the tiny slit in his cock-head.
"Lick up the juice, Carol," he urged her. "Taste that cock honey, huh?"
For a moment the inhibitions threatened to choke her. She was terrified that, despite his assurances, her mouth was going to be filled with urine.
She shut her eyes and made a hasty dab at the tip of his cock with her reluctant tongue.
To her surprise, she found it was, quite inoffensive, tasting almost of nothing, perhaps with just a slight hint of saltiness lurking. His cock leapt, with a renewed pulse of excitement, and its response delighted her.
She engulfed its partial length, as far as she could take it with comfort, at the same time tightening her lips around it, pressing the inner surfaces of her cheeks and mouth as closely upon it as she could manage. Experimentally, she began a kind of combination sucking and licking that filled her mouth with warm saliva and his freely flowing lubrication, so that after a little while his cockhead seemed to be floating in a luxurious, liquid, warm oral bath.
"Play with my balls," he implored her.
One hand still grasped lower part of his rock-hard shaft; with the other she fumbled between his thighs and gathered the twin weights in their scrotal sack into her palm. She slid the turgid length of his phallus out of her hot mouth and nuzzled his testicles, relishing again that their rich male fragrance. They tasted more strongly of sweat than any other part of him, but she welcomed it now.
They seemed to churn and heave beneath her tongue. Lovingly she mouthed them for several minutes, floating off into a kind of trance, until finally he broke in on her reverie.
"Suck my cock some more, little sister."
Obediently she licked her way back along the almost bursting veins to the responsively twitching cockhead. Once again she sucked it between her moist red lips, pressing it with her tongue and the linings of her cheeks.
His breath was harsh with excitement, and his hands roamed almost aimlessly over her naked back and shoulders, his caress upon her exposed flesh sending tremors of joy through her whole body. His raspy breathing grew more and more urgent, and she knew he was about to come. Was he going to spurt his load of hot semen into her mouth?
A moment later she had the answer. His body stiffened and his breath contracted into a series of gasping grunts. Her mouth was suddenly filled with a salty, slightly bitter fluid, and she gulped at it, swallowing avidly.
A series of violent throbbing in her pussy took her unawares, and she gurgled around his softening prick, wracked with the orgasm which had crept up on her from the sheer excitement of sucking her brother's cock, without her pussy even being touched.
Oh yes, she remembered that first time, all right!
CHAPTER EIGHT
And she remembered, also, the first time he had involved anyone else in their incestuous affair.
That had been one evening when, for a wonder, their mother had decided to stay home. Carol had reluctantly resigned herself to the fact that there would be no sex tonight; but hope had risen in her heart when Brett had said, as they finished dinner: "I see they're showing--" she couldn't remember now what--"at the drive-in. I wouldn't mind seeing that again." Then, almost as an after-thought, he added: "You want to come along, Carol? You can if you like."
And he gave her a hint of conspiratorial wink across the dinner table.
She tried to tone down her enthusiastic acceptance of his casual invitation in case her mother grew suspicious--and half an hour later they were driving toward the theater.
Brett stopped the car and pulled over to the side a couple of hundred yards short of the entrance.
"Mike was telling me," he said nonchalantly, "Yes, yes he did," she replied, uncertain what was in his mind. Was he jealous, she wondered hopefully.
"You didn't let him fuck you."
She shook her head, wonderingly. He must know that. He had taken her cherry himself. He knew that nobody else had ever fucked her before he had.
"Well," he went on, "you were a virgin then. But now you're not. And you're on the pill, too."
He had taken her to a doctor he knew shortly after their first session together, who had examined her carefully, asked her a lot of questions about her health, taken her blood pressure, then given her a pill prescription, cautioning her to take them every day and to report back to him in six months for a check-up, and had concluded with a most unprofessional slap upon her rounded ass and a leering: "Enjoy yourself."
She looked at her brother, puzzled.
"I haven't slept with anyone else," she said.
"I know." He brushed a hand lightly over her tits. "It's time you did."
"Brett . . . r "Mike's coming to the movie with us--and you're going to give him what you wouldn't give him before."
She stared at him in stunned disbelief. It must be some kind of joke that she didn't understand. . . .
Her brother smiled at her: a sensuous, possessive smile.
"You'll like it," he murmured.
"But I--I don't want to, Brett!"
"You didn't want to suck my cock," he reminded her coarsely. "But now you can't get enough of it."
"But that's--that's different!" she protested, thoroughly alarmed now. "I--I love you, Brett! I don't love Mike! I don't want to sleep with--"
"It's not what you want, little sister. It's what I want. The kind of scene that I enjoy. With you, or with . . . some other chick who knows the score."
As always, that threat cowed her. She sat in submissive silence, stealing glances at him as he stared down the road, wondering if it was all a bluff; even now she hoped that he was just teasing her for some reason.
But a walking figure appeared and drew closer, and Brett was opening the door and saying: "C'mon in, Mike. Carol, squeeze over so Mike can get in, will you?"
Meekly she squirmed closer to Brett on the wide front seat, and Mike settled down on the other side of her. She was surrounded by masculinity. . . .
Brett started the car again and drove into the theater area, paid for their tickets, then selected a parking place to one side, away from where most of the other cars were concentrated.
They set the speaker in place, and Carol stared blankly at the technicolor figures moving on the huge screen up ahead; she listened uncomprehendingly to the spate of words and background music that babbled from the speaker.
Brett's hand rested on her left knee.
Mike planted his hand on the right one.
She was torn between the desire for Brett and her resistance to the idea of being sexually handled by Mike. And the threat of her brother's abandoning her for a more cooperative girl kept her silent for the moment.
Brett slid his hand a little way along her thigh, and Mike followed suit.
Carol swallowed nervously.
"Got nice tits, hasn't she, Mike?" Brett remarked in a pleasant, social tone of voice, as though commenting politely about the weather.
"Yeah," Mike agreed huskily. "I told you she let me get close to them before--I could use some of that right now."
"Allow me," Brett said with mock courtliness, and his fingers went to the buttons of her blouse and started to unfasten them, one by one.
Carol made a tiny strangled sound of protest, which he completely ignored. He unbuttoned her blouse all the way and tugged it off her shoulders and down over her arms and off, then he undid her. brassiere ,and pulled that off too, so that she sat naked from the waist up, blushing deeply as the two young men gazed with appreciation at her breasts.
"Yeah," Mike said again. "That's a real nice set-of boobs. Brett. Mind if I feel them a little."
"All you like," Brett told him generously.
Carol flinched slightly as Mike's large hands started to stroke her breasts, his fingers teasing the dark ninnies into peaks of hardness. Brett's hand returned to her thigh and worked slowly up beneath her skirt, caressing the warm skin of the inner surfaces of her thighs. He leaned his head over slightly and nibbled on her ear-lobe, and she felt' .the familiar beginnings of melting in her in core of willpower--she started to relax, to surrender to whatever her brother chose to do to her.
Mike was kissing and licking her breasts now, mouthing them avidly. Brett's hand worked higher and higher, playing with the upper parts of her thighs, fingertips teasing the creases where they joined her pelvis, but never quite touching her crotch, which was slowly coming to the boil.
She moaned softly as the excitement grew too much to tolerate any longer.
Brett reached for one of Mike's hands and guided it up under Carol's skirt, shoving it against her panty-covered pussy. Carol started and moaned again at the welcome pressure.
"Wow!" Mike gasped, releasing his mouthful of fit. "She's wet as a sponge! That's the way she got before--only she wouldn't let me fuck her then."
His big fingers wriggled over her nylon-covered labia, and Brett's hand went to the waist-band and worked their way down inside, his forefinger homing in on her clitoris and expertly tickling it for a few ecstatic seconds.
"Ooohh," Carol whimpered helplessly.
"Undo your pants, Mike--my little sister's going to show you how nicely she sucks cock," Brett hissed.
Carol shook her head weakly, but knew that she would have to do as she was told.
Mike grappled with his straining fly, and released his hot prick into the open. It wasn't as big as Brett's, she saw, but big enough!
"Hold on a minute," Brett said, and pressed a button on the dash. The back of the front seat tilted, lowering itself to a horizontal position, so that, with its contact with the back seat cushions, it formed a sleeping area.
"Hey, that's neat," Mike said approvingly.
"It's one of the reasons I picked this car," Brett grinned back at him. "Why don't you stretch out and get comfortable--lean back--that's the way."
Mike settled himself against the back cushions, long legs stretched out in front of him, his excited cock springing up demandingly from his open fly.
Carol stared at it, reluctant to touch it--yet somehow, because it was Brett who wanted her to do it, the idea aroused her, and a strange eagerness conflicted with her resistance to the idea of intimacy with Mike.
"Okay, little sister," Brett said, "you crawl in between Mike's legs there and wrap your sweet little mouth around that nice hard dick and make it feel good, okay?"
Obediently, Carol crawled between Mike's thighs.
"Stay on your knees," Brett commanded. "Put them a bit apart so I can play with your pussy if I feel like it."
Oh yes, she begged silently. Play with my pussy, Brett . . . do anything you want with my pussy!
She looked down at Mike's pulsing, mushroom-headed cock, then gave it a preliminary lick with her hot tongue.
He sucked in a deep, pleasure-filled breath.
She slid her lips over the head, and began to work on it in the way that Brett enjoyed.
Mike enjoyed it too, and left her in no doubt of the fact, as his gasps and groans and stifled exclamations amply testified. Brett patted Carol approvingly on the ass, then lifted her skirt up above her waist.
"That's a good girl," he said. "You just go on that way."
He slipped a hand between her legs from behind and fondled her pussy through her soaking panties. She whimpered her pleasure around her mouthful of cock, and the vibrations of sound gave Mike an extra bonus thrill.
Brett started to peel her panties down her thighs, slowly, relishing his task. Carol's pussy throbbed with the anticipation of what was to come. She wanted to rub her thighs together, but Brett made her keep them apart.
He dabbled his fingers in her juice. She could hear the faint sloshy sounds, and the liquid noises of her own mouth working around Mike's rigid prick.
Brett pushed a finger into her clinging, mushy inner canal and she gasped.
"Don't go biting Mike, now," he warned her, "or I'll whip your cute ass for you."
Carol concentrated as best she could on Mike's cock, but the pleasure she was receiving from Brett's manipulations at her other end was too much for her to bear.
She raised her head, leaving Mike's saliva-soaked prick standing urgently upright.
"I can't.. . . " she whimpered.
Brett slapped her ass lightly.
"You'll learn, little sister," he predicted. "But maybe Mike would just as soon get this hot, juicy little snatch wrapped around his dick, anyway."
"Sure I would," Mike confirmed breathlessly. "Oh, jeeze, Brett, but she's got the nicest mouth ever sucked me--"
"Well, you try a piece of her snug little poontang," Brett invited. "How do you want her?"
"Have her sit on it, huh?"
Brett slapped her again.
"Okay, Carol," he said briskly. "Co sit on the man's nice hard dick."
She peeled her panties the rest of the way down and off, and she shuffled forward, kneeling astride Mike. She looked at him for a moment, then glanced over her shoulder avidly to fill her mind with the image of Brett before she meekly positioned her dripping vulva over Mike's up-thrust cockhead. She shivered at the contact of saliva-slick flesh against her inflamed pussy, and it was with strong sensual pleasure that she sank down on the rigid shaft, sinking it deeply into her hot, wet, velvet-walled inner inferno.
"Awww!" Mike gulped blissfully, and reached to fill his hands with her bouncing tits, palming the large nipples into renewed hardness.
Brett's hands closed around Carol's waist, supporting her, and his lips caressed the nape of her neck.
He started to guide her up and down on the impaling rod inside her, and she closed her eyes and submitted gladly. It was enough that Brett was there, holding her, wanting her to do this. It was an extension of fucking Brett, that was all. . . .
Hotter and hotter the fires blazed inside her. Brett increased the tempo of the fuck gradually, until she felt like a helpless rag doll, her head jerking and lolling as her brother levered her up and down on his friend's prick.
"Gawd, oh jeeze, oh shit, oh fuck, oh sweet Mary, Joseph, Holy Christ," Mike crooned ecstatically, and suddenly his body convulsed and he clutched her tits painfully as his violent orgasm exploded inside her.
Brett held her still while Mike's spasms died away, then he pulled her helpless body free of the softening cock with a plopping, squishing noise, and hauled her clear of Mike. He caught her by the hips and pushed her forward, and sank his own big cock deeply into her just vacated pussy, and she almost screamed with the sheer blissful sensations of it.
He pistoned in and out of her mercilessly, one hand now holding her flat across the belly, the other groping down between her legs to find her marble-hard clitoris once again, and he fingered it and pumped violently in and out of her for what seemed hours, while climax after climax tore through her helpless body, and she sobbed and begged to be released, and begged to be fucked harder and deeper, and went, and screamed, and choked out her incredible ecstasy until at last his eruption filled her cunt with its second load of sperm, and he let her collapse into a merciful oblivion.
Only by that time Mike had got his second wind, and through the haze that warmed her senses, she was aware of being rolled over onto her back and her legs being lifted and slung over his shoulders, and again a rigid cock was plowing into exhausted cunt, and incredibly there was still sensation there, and a new series of thrills ripped through her, until she no longer knew who she was or what was happening; she was nothing but cunt, elemental, ecstatic cunt, being reamed and plowed and possessed by elemental cock, that flung her from ecstasy to ecstasy, until her nerves could take no more and blackness closed in upon her completely.
Brett had carried her into the house and tucked her into her bed without her waking. The next morning she had been sore and raw, but somehow it didn't matter, the memory of the pleasure was still with her, and she spent the rest of the day in a kind of blissful dream of reminiscence.
So that when Brett told her, a couple of days later, that he was bringing some friends over to meet her that evening, her protests were very weak indeed.
CHAPTER NINE
The brunette waitress was saying something to the construction worker, who was still having his asshole tongued by the redheaded waitress.
The big man nodded, and looked over towards Carol's table.
Carol blushed as he caught her eye, winked knowingly, ran his tongue over his lips, grasped his immense erection, pointed it in her direction and shook it meaningfully once or twice.
Carol looked away, and back across the table at her brother, her eyes pleading to be let off.
"See how hot for you he is," Brett teased her. "You couldn't disappoint him now, could you?"
"Oh, Brett . . . please don't make me . . . I . . . he's so . . . impossible!"
He smiled coolly.
"Try it," he murmured, his voice implacable but amused. "You'll like it."
The construction worker dismissed the red-head and strolled leisurely over to Carol.
"Hi there, Miss Tits," he said affably. "I unnerstan' you want my big dick plowin' your cute little gash, huh? Always a pleasure obligin' a lady."
She shot a final glance of pleading despair at her brother, who cocked an amused eyebrow and shook his head.
"She can't wait for it," he told the construction worker. "All through dinner she's been begging me to let her fuck you--she's been moaning how she can't wait to get that big thing shoved up her hot little pussy, since she couldn't manage to get it into her cute mouth. She's a real hot number, my sister, you know. There's no getting enough cock as far as she's concerned."
Carol shot him an indignant glance--but she felt yet another oozing of juice in her inflamed pussy.
Charlotte also came over to their table. She wrapped her hand casually around the enormous prick jutting from the construction worker's open fly.
"I hear you're going to treat this little lady to a helping of your monster," she commented affably.
"Soon's she finishes her coffee," he nodded. Charlotte smiled at Carol.
"I was wondering if you'd like to have your pussy licked a little first," she said.
Carol stared at her, wordlessly.
"You can use all the juice you can get, you know," Charlotte said seriously. "And I'd love to do it for you."
"That's very sweet of you, Charlotte," Brett said. "I know Carol would love to take you up on that offer. You've finished that coffee, haven't you, Carol?"
Dumbly, she nodded.
"Come around here, then, and let me take your panties off," he ordered lazily.
She didn't think she could blush any more than she was already, but her cheeks felt as though they would burst into flame at any moment. But she meekly rose to her feet and went to stand beside him. Her pussy by now was so swollen with the excitement that had accumulated since their arrival at this strange club, it was almost painful to walk.
He leaned forward and kissed her bare bobbing breasts.
"I'll be with you," he said in a low voice. "You just relax and enjoy it--okay?"
"You--you won't let him--hurt me, will your she whispered desperately.
His eyes held hers steadily.
"Have I ever let anyone hurt you, little sister?"
After a long pause, she shook her head.
"No," she admitted.
"Hoist up your skirt then, little sister," he said, "and let's get those panties off you." She hitched her skirt up to hip level.
"Nice legs," the construction worker commented, with an appreciative whistle.
"She has nice everything," Brett agreed, hooking his fingers into the waistband of Carol's panties and tugging them downward. They peeled over her hips and down her thighs and calves, and she lifted her right foot, then her left, so he could pull them off over her feet.
"Look at those!" He tossed the wispy garment up in the air playfully and caught it. "Marinated with pussy juice! Man, I know guys who'd give fifty bucks for a sniff at these!"
He stowed them in his pocket.
"Come along, sweetie," Charlotte said. "Let's go and get ourselves comfortable. I can't wait to get a taste of your sweet little pussy."
Brett jerked his head slightly, indicating for Carol to follow the older woman, so she did.
Charlotte led her to the sectional couch and reached for a couple of cushions.
"Let's get the rest of your clothes off," she said, and her knowing fingers reached for the catch at the waist of Carol's skirt. That, with her garterbelt and stockings, was all she had left, and with those stripped off, she stood naked and confused, every eye in the room focused upon her with avid attention.
But not, she suddenly realized, hostility. They all wanted her to enjoy herself.
They liked her.
"Lie down, dear," Charlotte urged her, guiding her into place on the couch, slipping the cushions beneath her hips to raise them above the level of the rest of her. She knelt on another cushion by the couch, pushed Carol's knees up and back, and ducked her face into the ripe, swollen, juice-running split of Carol's enflamed sex.
"Pretty, pretty," she cooed.
"Yeah. It's a nice snatch," the construction worker agreed cheerfully. "Go on and lick it, lady, so's I can get my dick up there, okay?"
Charlotte's tongue flickered delicately over Carol's trickling pussy, like a mother cat washing a kitten.
"Haa--ahhhh! AHH!"
After so much long, drawn-out arousal, actual contact was almost painful to Carol.
Charlotte's tongue wandered happily up along the center ridge of the inner lips, traversed one side of the groove, pressed for a delicious moment against the aching nubbin of Carol's clit, then darted away and probed the swollen vulva.
A slow thrill of almost climactic response shuddered through Carol's body.
Brett was beside her now, as he had promised, lightly palming her breasts as he knew so well how to do. Her burning nipples stabbed up against his hands, and reassured by his presence, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the delicious, almost overwhelming shocks of sexual sensation that Charlotte's quivering, sweeping tongue was bringing to her cunt.
Brett flicked her nipples back and forth with his fingertips, and the erotic twinges seemed to travel right down to her belly, to meet the sensations flowing upwards from the flaming grotto between her thighs.
Tremors of excitement rippled through her, and she felt as though she were about to be caught in an earthquake. She couldn't hold back any longer, she thought dreamily; Brett's hands at her tits and Charlotte's tongue on her pussy were going to make her come and COME and COME. . . .
And suddenly the tantalizing tongue was gone, and she felt the couch shaking as the construction worker knelt between her legs.
She opened her eyes in alarm. Somebody caught her left ankle; somebody else took the right one, pulling her legs even wider apart, holding them up and back.
Brett's hands continued to massage her breasts. His eyes looked down at her face and she stared back up at him for reassurance.
Big warm fingers were rubbing her pussy now, and one slid easily into her.
Carol whimpered with frightened anticipation and immediate sensual response.
The big finger worked around inside her, unhurriedly, then was witlidrawn.
Then the construction worker took his incredible hard-on in his hand and guided it to the tight entrance of her blood-engorged, slippery honey-pot.
He pressed forward, steadily, not rushing.
"Ah-huh!" Carol gasped.
Brett pressed down a little on her nipples.
Charlotte's fingers reached down into Carol's crotch and gently eased the lips of her vulva apart, so that the center of the monstrous cock's head was aimed into the snug entry.
Again came the forward pressure, and Carol moaned.
Charlotte's fingers went to Carol's clitoris, and began to work it skillfully around and around, renewing the feverish pitch of the younger woman's excitement.
The cock pressure grew harder--and incredulously, Carol felt the enormous thing start to spread her inner lips, gliding on her overflowing juices.
It was almost painful, but not quite . . . On and on it pushed, remorselessly.
Inward.
Stretching.
Insisting.
Irresistible.
Charlotte vibrated her finger rapidly over Carol's clit, and a spasm of uncontrollable pleasure set Carol's hips jerking for a moment.
And in that moment, with one hard thrust, the enormous cockhead popped through the tight ring of her vulva and was lodged inside her.
"OOOOHHHH!" Carol wailed.
And the huge shaft began its slow, slick journey on up the length of her vagina until it nudged against the cushiony button of her cervix.
"AHHHhhhhh.. . . "
Slowly, slowly he pulled out, until only the huge head remained inside her, snugly held in place by the muscles of his vaginal entrance. They had resisted its entry; now they clung and didn't want to allow the invader to leave.
And in he came again, a little faster this time, now that the way was prepared.
And again, and again, in and out, in and out, picking up speed, bouncing off her cervix, setting her inner linings on fire, filling her body with twitching spasms of response.
Oh, it was too much! Too much!
"Brett--"
"Okay, little sister, okay . . . I love you . . . I love you . . . I love you.. . . "
And her cunt went into great contractions around the monstrous rod that impaled it, squeezing the sperm out of his balls and flooding into her passage, and they let go of her ankles so that her body could thrash and flail and jerk wildly all around the man's body, which pinned her beneath its weight as he collapsed on top of her, until her convulsions slowly died away and left her prostrate and exhausted.
Then he slowly rose up onto his knees, and the big, soft cock came flopping out of her, followed by a flood of pent-up sperm mixed with her abundant lubricant liquids.
She lay dreamily while mouths went to her pussy and licked up that flood of nectar, that feast of mingled male and female honey, cleaning her, soothing her, feeding upon her greedily yet almost reverently.
Brett leaned down and kissed her on the mouth, lingeringly, tenderly, and she weakly reached up to wind her arms around his neck.
"Brett," she whispered.
"Nice?" he murmured back.
"Oh yes, yes.. . . "
He slipped his arms beneath her and lifted her up.
"Time for you to take a nap, little sister."
And he carried her limp, naked body out the dining room, up a flight of stairs, into another room, and laid her down on a big, comfortable bed.
"Fuck me, Brett, fuck me," she begged.
"Haven't you had enough?"
"Not till you fuck me, Brett.. . . "
He laughed, and undressed, and climbed onto the bed beside her.
"Turn on your side, little sister."
Obediently she turned away from him, and felt him guiding his cock gently into her cunt, her stretched, swollen cunt, from behind, then wrapped his arms around her and pulling her back to nestle snugly against him.
His hands caressed her breasts. His strong chest pressed against the soft, smooth' skin of her back, and the tight muscles of his thighs pressed against the silky flesh of hers.
She wriggled her bottom against him happily.
"You still have your ass cherry, little sister?" he murmured into her ear.
"Oh . . . Brett . . . not that.. . . "
"Soon, Carol. Not today, but very soon."
She knew it was no use arguing.
Oh, she was so tired . . .
She tried to contract her cunt muscles, but could hardly find the strength to do so.
And a few moments later she was sound asleep, her brother's hard cock thrust snugly up inside her pussy to sweeten her strange, delicious dreams.
CHAPTER TEN
"You didn't have your blow job," Carol said.
"I'll take a rain check." He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, lightly. "Go on in. I'll call you again soon."
"Very soon?"
"Soon."
Oh, she was so tired . . . not sleepy so much, after that nap this afternoon, but body-tired. Her thighs ached; her breasts ached; her mouth ached; her pussy--well, it didn't ache, exactly, but she was reminded of how it had been stretched--gloriously stretched--with almost every movement she made.
Inside the large entry of the house she paused and took a deep breath. She almost doubted whether she could manage to climb the stairs.
The door of the small sitting room that led off the entry opened, and a woman about her own age stood there, a dark-haired, green-eyed, smartly dressed woman, who regarded Carol with an air of disdain.
Carol looked back at her.
"Hullo," she said weakly. "Uh--"
"You must be--"
"I'm Carol Har--uh--Raynes. Mrs. Keir Raynes.. . . "
"I am Miss Sandra Raynes."
The announcement was made with a tight-lipped smile.
"Oh . . . Keir's daughter . . . I . . . we couldn't seem to find where you were . . .
Sandra Raynes shrugged.
"I read about the wedding," she said lightly. "I didn't realize my father was so senile."
"He is not," Carol cried indignantly. "How dare you say such a thing!"
The green eyes surveyed her coldly, and Carol knew she was being summed up as a cheap tramp who had somehow enticed Keir Raynes into marriage as the price of her body.
Well . . . hadn't she?
"I don't care what he does, so much," Sandra said slowly. "I just object to seeing his money wasted."
Carol realized suddenly that by marrying Keir, by the possibility that she might even bear him a child, she was cutting into the massive inheritance Sandra, Keir's only daughter, had come to expect. No wonder this haughty brunette was acting so coldly!
But, Carol thought with a sudden determination, I am Keir's wife, and I am the mistress of the house!
"Well," she said, "it's very nice of you to come visit us." She laid a slight stress on the last two words. Visit: this is no longer a house in which you are top woman. Us: your father is no longer a purely independent entity. "I hope you'll stay awhile. Keir will be so pleased."
She shrugged again.
"I'll think about it," she said. "When do you expect him?"
"Your father? Oh, he should be here about seven. I hope you won't think me impolite if I go take a shower, Sandra--I've had a rather tiring afternoon . . . shopping.. . . "
Sandra smiled insolently.
"Be my guest."
And as Carol turned towards the staircase, she added: "I see that my father gave you my old rooms. I went in without realizing . . . I thought some of my things were still there, so if you find anything out of place--it was quite unintentional, I do assure you."
"I didn't know . .
Sandra turned and went back into the sitting room.
Carol's heart started to flutter as she mounted the stairs. But, no, even if Sandra had used the bathroom, she wouldn't have been likely to be looking for Tampax Panicky, she rushed into the bathroom and snatched the box from the little closet; The album was still there--but how could she tell whether it had been disturbed? Grabbing it that way, she couldn't even see if it was in the same position she had left it!
No, it was ridiculous to be worrying!
But what if--?
Carol stood clutching the album nervously. It seemed to weigh on her like a dead body: the corpse from her past. Where could she get rid of it? Why was this damn house so full of servants tidying everything in sight? God damn, she couldn't even shove the thing into the bottom of a garbage bag because her presence in the kitchen would be noticed by the cook and whoever else was in there!
She drew a deep breath. She went into her bedroom and rang the bell to summon the maid.
"I want one of those bags for mailing hooks," she said. "Is there such a thing in the house?"
"I believe so, Mrs. Raynes. I think I saw some in the library, in the closet with the stationery. Shall I take a look?"
Carol shook her head.
"No, I'll--I'll go and see. Thank you."
"Can I do anything for you, Madame?"
"No, not just now. Thank you."
She went to the library and found one of the bags and a roll of filament tape. She took their up to her room, sealed the album into the bag, and wrapped it with the tape securely. She wrote a name and address on it at random and stowed it in her pocketbook. Now it was safe. Nobody could pick it up and look at it casually. And when she went out tomorrow, she'd take it with her as though she were mailing a package, and get rid of the damn thing in the river or somewhere!
Feeling relieved, she went into the bathroom and set the water running into the deep tub. She poured in a generous helping of her favorite bath-oil, pulled off her clothes, and sank into the scented, softened water which caressed her body like a lover . . . like a brother . . . lover . . . brother . . .
Thou host ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou host ravished my heart with one of thine 'eyes. . . . What was she doing with the other eye? Carol giggled to herself, remembering how she had discovered the Song of Songs during her adolescence, when she was about fifteen, shortly before she quit going to Sunday school. Was old Solomon really fucking her sister, she wondered. It is the voice of my be-loved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled--undefiled, hah!--for my head--of his cock?--is filled with dew and . . . my beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door and my bowels were moved for him. Stick your finger in your sister's pussy, Solly, and she'll crap all over the bed! I rose up to open to my beloved and my hands dropped with myrhh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock. . . .
By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him but I found him not . . . What am I doing married to Keir, to this old man? Why am I in love with Brett, my own brother? My beloved spoke and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. . . .
So which is the worst sin? Fucking my brother or selling myself in marriage?
The warm water lapped about her weary body.
There came a tapping at the door.
"May I come in?"
"Yes, Keir. Come in."
He's early .
He stood looking down at her, his eyes alight with pleasure at the sight of her in the tub.
"You know Sandra's here?" she asked.
"Yes." He smiled. "I'm afraid that young lady's none too pleased about--us."
"She's--well, it will take her a little while to get used to the idea, I suppose," Carol said, vaguely.
"How do you like your stepdaughter?"
"My--goodness!" Carol was startled. "I hadn't thought of that! But I suppose she is!"
"Yes. Well, don't you take any nonsense from her."
"I don't intend to."
She smiled up at him.
He shifted his weight slightly.
"Er--will you be getting out soon?" he asked hopefully.
She nodded automatically.
"I'll wait in the bedroom for you," he said.
She sighed slightly as the door closed behind him. Still, what was one more fuck?
She climbed out of the water and dried herself, sprayed on a little perfume, combed her hair and her pubic curls, and went out into the bedroom where he was lying on the bed. He had taken his clothes off. He really did have a good body, she thought, even if you didn't consider his age.
Then suddenly she wondered whether he would notice the stretched state of her cunt. Or had it returned to its normal size? Was there anything to indicate the incredible sex scenes she had been through that day?
The thoughts whirled anxiously through her head as she lay down beside her and he began greedily to nuzzle at her breasts. She wondered if she could put him off with a blow job, but after she had sucked him for a few minutes he pushed her face away from his groin and said: "I feel like a tiger, for some reason. We're going to tear off a real hot piece, you and me!"
Oh dear! she thought nervously. Suppose--?
She looked up at him coyly.
"Keir, darling," she said, "I hope you won't think I'm being a dirty broad, but--"
"What?" The phrase itself was enough to light up his eyes with lecherous anticipation.
"There's something I've been . . . wanting to try . . . I . . . I.. . . "
"What is it?"
She reached for his hand and guided it to her bottom.
"I've never been fucked--there," she said softly.
He sucked in a sharp breath of excitement.
"You want to try that, Carol?" he demanded with unmistakable eagerness.
She managed to blush.
"I've always Wondered what it feels like," she told him, "and if you--"
"You'll love it!" he assured her hoarsely. "You'll love it! Oh, baby, you will love it!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Keir asked: "Do you have some oil or something, Carol?"
"Yes . . . there's some baby oil . . . shall I get it?"
He nodded.
"We'll need it," he answered, and licked his lips lewdly, his eyes alight with anticipation.
Carol slid off the bed and went back to the bathroom for the oil which she used if her skin seemed unusually dry. She went back to Keir, who was arranging a couple of pillows in the middle of the bed.
"You just put your pretty little self over those," he said, "so your cute ass is shoved way up in the air and I can reach it--okay?"
"Yes," she replied submissively, and sprawled herself face-down on the bed, the pillows acting as a support to raise her hips.
Really, she told herself, she should have waited for Brett to take her anal cherry--but she couldn't risk Keir getting into her, distended cunt this evening, so she would just have to think about Brett, pretend it was her brother, and enjoy it as much as she could and . . .
She felt the jolting of the mattress as he climbed back onto the bed beside her, behind her, and she tensed a little, wondering if it would be very painful.
Then his hands were urging her thighs apart, stroking and kneading their silk-soft skin, and a little ripple of excitement coursed through her.
He started to kiss the cheeks of her ass--tiny kisses lavished all over the sensitive surfaces of her buttocks and thighs. It was a nice feeling. His long tongue darted out with little wet caresses, and his teeth gave her tiny, not quite painful bites, each nibble sending a new tingle of sensation through her body.
Then the tongue started to probe the cleft of her ass.
Across her mind flashed the memory of the construction worker's straining monster prick and the naked redhead crouched behind him, avidly tonguing his asshole. . . .
Keir's tongue was dancing along the tight valley, its tip stabbing at the tight anal pucker. The clenched ring seemed to quiver and flutter, then yielded to the probing tongue.
The fiery-wet stab inwards took her by surprise, even though she knew it was coming. She. was astonished at the passionate response that hurtled through her asshole and somehow into her cunt.
No wonder the construction worker had enjoyed so much having his asshole tongued! Keir sat up, gasping for breath.
"You like it?" he panted.
'Yes!"
He took a deep breath, and ducked his face downward again. And once more came the wet, warm probing of the blunt-pointed dagger of his tongue exploring the tight, secret rear valley, licking up and down the oddly textured flesh, and finally probing once again into the snug rosette of her virginal asshole.
Then he worked one hand beneath her, raking through the dew-moist folds of her well-worked cunt-lips and over the swollen membranes until his fingers homed in on her clitoris, once again hardening into responsive life.
The delicious friction worked its subtle magic, especially when she brought Brett's image to her mind's eye again.
She moaned gently as her nipples grew rigid and aching with her wanton response, and a slow, steady pulsing started up in the lips of her pussy.
Keir ducked his face down and licked along her cunt-lips, as far as he could reach, and lapped up the nectar that was trickling from her vulva.
Then he sat up, pulling his honey-wet hand from under her, and she heard the scraping sound as he unscrewed the lid of the oil bottle.
She caught her breath with anticipation, with apprehension--Oh, Brett . . .
And there came to her ears the fleshy-slippery sounds as he covered his prick with the slithery oil, and she jumped slightly as his warm, slidy fingers probed carefully into her ass crack, and one of them penetrated the tightly folded sphincter, gliding irresistibly inwards.
It was a strange, slightly painful yet oddly pleasurable feeling, and she sucked in a deep breath, trying to help him by relaxing more completely.
Keir pulled his finger out, and there was a little pause, during which she lay throbbing with expectation, her pussy oozing a little trickle of honey.
Her husband slid his hands around her hips to hold her steady. Then the head of his prick, warm and hard and. slippery with oil, started to slide through the waiting valley, following the track of the exploring finger.
It pressed against the lubricated pucker of her asshole, and despite herself, she tensed.
His hand, the one without the oil, stroked her hair and down the length of her back, an affectionate, comforting caress, and she took another deep breath, willing her body to be limp, open, ready for him. . . .
The invading, steely rod pierced her body--she found herself, even at that moment, surprised how potent he was this evening--and glided smoothly and sweetly in, plunging deeply until she could feel the soft swing of his balls against the backs of her thighs, then the slightly prickly rubbing of Keir's pubic hair against the fleshy cheeks of her rounded bottom.
She gasped in surprise and a little pain, but . . .
A delicious heat started to radiate through her entrails, radiating outward to fill her belly with sweet, delicious sexual tingling.
Brett . . .
Keir . . .
Her husband lay still for a few moments, giving her time to grow thoroughly used to the hard, unaccustomed fullness up her ass. She contracted the muscles there experimentally, as though she were about to shit, and felt his cock leap in ardent, impassioned erotic response.
His hands took a firm grasp on her hips and tugged her backwards until she was crouched in his lap, and he held her steady with one hand while with the other he reached around to fondle her large, dark nipples, spiked with excitement; then he slid his other hand down to explore the fleshy lips of her wet pussy, settling on the eagerly reaching clitoris.
He nibbled her earlobe, and then the side of her neck. The woman squirmed responsively, and heard his gasp of pleased surprise as her movement gave a new stimulus to the rigid length of meat sunk within her.
Then he urged her forward again, onto her hands and knees, and his cock slid slowly out of her, until only the big head was still lodged inside the clutching anal ring. Then he sank back in, until his cockhead had reached the deepest point it could possibly achieve.
And this time the sensation of its passage seemed to caress the walls of her rectal canal with fiery friction, and the heat traveled through her flesh to the lips and tissues of her cunt, filling her with a sensuous flame.
Brett . . .
Then he began to piston in and out of her, like a stallion plowing an overheated mare. Carol thrust back at him, gasping at the delicious pleasure-pain, longing for more pressure to be applied to her pussy and clitoris again. She couldn't do it for herself and keep her balance; and just his cock plunging in and out of her asshole wasn't quite enough to bring her to the climax she was desperately craving.
Keir seemed to sense what was troubling her, for he drew her back onto his lap once again, and with a strength she hadn't suspected he possessed, began to lever her up and down his cock, so that her hands were free and "Play with your pussy, Carol baby! Play with your sweet, hot pussy!" he hissed into her ear, and nibbled the delicate earlobe once again.
"Ooooohhhhh!" she moaned.
She ground her hips into his cock on the downstroke. With her left hand she played with her own nipples, while the right was delving into her musky, juicy, passion-swollen cunt lips, and digging through them to where her clitoris strained and pulsed, so filled with blood that it was as hard as Keir's cock, as hard as the fingertip that caressed it so urgently as it nestled beneath its tiny hood.
Alerted to her rapidly approaching climax by her increasingly intense moans and spasms, Keir suddenly thrust her back over the pillows, so that her breasts were crushed against the sheet, her hand still frantically playing in her own cunt.
Her hips were thrust up high into the air, and his pounding attack was ferocious, his loins slapping noisily against the ripe cheeks of her bottom, his balls swinging forward with every stroke. His fingers gripped her hips painfully as he plunged in and out faster and faster.
With a harsh cry of ecstasy, he came, and the sound of the passion in his voice, the convulsions of his body and the sudden renewed hardening of his cock and its throbbing as it spurted white fire deep into the darkness of her ass, sent Carol hurtling over the precipice.
Her orgasm seemed to last for hours, and by the time she was aware of the world again, Keir had pulled out of her, and was gently poking his fingers into her pussy, deep into her cunt.
Oh god, she thought, can he feel how stretched it is?
But his eyes were affectionate as he leaned down to kiss her, and told her he would see her again at dinner.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It was with relief that Carol retired to her bedroom at the end of the evening. Sandra, who had decided to stay the night, to which Carol could hardly object considering she had politely invited her to do so, had been superficially polite and sociable, but every time Carol had caught her unawares, those shrewd green eyes had been fixed upon her as though the other woman were raking deeply into Carol's very soul.
Exhausted by her day's activities, she slept deeply, and awoke the next day feeling much refreshed. When Keir had left the house, Carol evaded Sandra and took her little package for a walk to the nearby river, where she ripped its contents to shreds and watched them float away.
Light-heartedly, she returned to the house--and found Sandra waiting for her in her bedroom.
Irritated by this invasion, Carol asked rather brusquely if she could do anything for her.
"We-e-ll," Sandra drawled, leaning back in Carol's armchair. "That depends, doesn't it?"
She crossed her slim, shapely legs.
"I received something rather interesting in the mail today," she went on, "from a friend of mine who works . . . well, you can probably guess where."
She tossed an envelope to Carol, who caught it and clutched it, a horrible emptiness in her tummy. Oh god, was there no escape? She didn't think Brett would ever use the photographs he had, once he had overcome her initial inhibitions--but Sandra would be merciless!
Mechanically, she opened the envelope and took out the two Polaroid photographs it contained.
One, clearly showing her ecstasy-wracked face, depicted the scene where she was being screwed by the construction-worker's immense cock. The other--oh, no!--was another angle of the same scene, with Brett, his face also clearly visible, massaging Carol's breasts while Charlotte worked at her crotch.
"They tell me that's your brother," Sandra smiled. "He's a good-looking guy. I'd like to meet him sometime. He looks as though he knows how to show a girl a really good time. You'll have to introduce us, Carol."
Carol clutched at the suggestion.
"Is that what you want? To date Brett?"
Sandra licked her lips slightly. Her green eyes were suddenly hooded, mysterious.
"Among other things," she said slowly.
"W-w-what?"
Sandra stood up. She was a couple of inches taller than Carol; her figure, though nicely put together, was much more slender and svelte. She had the look of a fashion model, while Carol was more like a PLAYBOY centerfold.
"I'll be frank with you," she said. "It's no great secret--my father knows. I happen to like my sex both ways, Carol . . . little stepmother."
"B-b-both ways?"
"I would like to make it with your good-looking brother. I might even take a crack at King Kong in the picture there if the opportunity were to present itself. But right now, it's you I'm interested in."
"M-m-me?"
"You. And since it's very much to your advantage to keep me happy-don't you think you'd better return my interest?" The green eyes swept a sensuous, lecherous gaze over Carol's slightly shaking body.
"I--I--"
Sandra picked up the photograph.
"I see you don't mind being on the receiving end," she commented coolly. "You don't look as though you were suffering while this lady ate your pussy."
"It was--I never--the first time--"
"You mean that little mouth of yours is a cunt-virgin, so to speak? Now isn't that sweet," Sandra purred. "Fancy me getting that cherry!"
"Oh Sandra, please! I couldn't!"
At this interesting moment, there came a tap at the door and Carol's maid appeared, to announce that Madame's brother had called to see her.
"Well, isn't that nice," Sandra exclaimed. "Speak of angels and you hear the rustling of their wings!"
Helplessly, Carol followed Sandra down-stairs. Maybe Brett could sort this out, she thought hopefully.
Brett rose to his feet politely as they went into the room.
Brett shook hands with Sandra, who said sweetly: "I feel that I know you so well already, Brett."
"Oh?"
"Yes, indeed."
She handed him the envelope.
Brett studied the photographs with a scowl.
"Where in hell did you get these?" he snapped.
"Oh, I have my contacts too, you know," she told him with a meaningful smile.
"And what is it you want?" Brett demanded, going straight to the point.
"What I want," Sandra replied, equally directly, "is nothing very outrageous. I would merely like to get in on the action--to share the enjoyment you two have going."
Brett surveyed her narrowly.
"That's all?"
"What else?"
"And if not.. . . "
"Well, I must admit it would amuse me to see my cute little stepmother become my cute little ex-stepmother--what a juicy divorce case that would be!"
Brett shrugged.
"Well, Carol?" he asked.
She stared at her brother helplessly.
"You want to stay married?" Sandra murmured.
That was the choice, wasn't it?
Brett said softly: "It would be a pity to lose all that money, of course . . .
"Yes. It would.
Carol gulped.
"All right," she said meekly, hopelessly.
Sandra turned to Brett, and asked: "And you'll go along with it too?"
Carol looked at him imploringly, and he nodded.
Sandra drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"Well," she said, "that's very nice and civilized!"
They waited.
"I think," she said slowly, "it would be nice if we were to go back into town and spend the day at my place. It's so much less cluttered with servants and so on. And I do have a few rather interesting toys.. . . "
* * *
Sandra lived in a Park Avenue penthouse, as befitted the daughter of a millionaire. It was spacious, sybaritic layout, furnished in an expensive, modern style, the rugs so thick one could sleep on them quite comfortably. Mirrors were everywhere, so that one could scarcely ever be unaware of what one was doing. There was even a full-length one facing the john, Carol found, when she visited the bathroom. She could have done without that touch of piss-elegance, she thought.
She washed her hands and went back out into the big living roam, whose walls were lined with black velvet-covered couches, whose floor was deeply padded with a white carpet. Sandra was mixing drinks, and although she normally didn't drink so early in the day, Carol wasn't sorry for the calming effects of a martini.
Sandra said pensively: "I think I will, if you will pardon the clich�, slip into something more comfortable. And . . . Carol, there are some clothes I'd like you to try. I'll send my maid along with them--you can change in the bedroom down the hall.
Obediently Carol went into the bedroom and waited for a couple of minutes, then the maid came in with a bundle of clothes in her arms.
Carol's eyes opened wide at the sight of the maid. She had been shocked by the naked waitresses at the club yesterday. This girl was not naked--yet her costume was in no possible way like those the maids wore in Carol's decorous home.
The girl, a curvaceous honey-blonde, had long, thick hair down to her shoulders. A perky little lace cap was perched on top of her head. She wore a long-sleeved black dress, with a neckline so deeply scooped, it only just concealed her nipples when she stood up straight. When she bent over, the pink tips of her breasts were clearly visible: the under-part of the bodice was boned to act as a support semi-bra, in which the large breasts snugly rested, and were eminently available.
The dress was extraordinarily short, coming just below the maid's crotch in front, and barely covering the curved cheeks of her bottom. She wore a black garter belt and long sheer black stockings, and the garter belt's tabs were plainly in sight. A pair of spike heels and a tiny lace apron completed the outfit--along with a pair of black panties so translucent they hid nothing, but merely cast a smoky shimmer over what lay beneath.
She was, Carol realized after a moment, precisely the kind of figure one saw in erotic fantasy pictures involving maids--quite impractical for any real work, but an object of submissive sexual availability.
Carol had a moment's mental picture of herself in such an outfit--and found the image made her pussy tingle.
The maid helped her to undress. The girl's hands roamed freely, brushing over Carol's breasts and thighs and crotch. Carol made no protest: she knew this was part of what Sandra wanted as the price of her silence.
When Carol returned to the living room, she was wearing a full-skirted puff-sleeved gingham dress, rather like a nice little girl's--except that its skirt reached only halfway down her thighs. And no nice little girl wore a gingham dress over a bra whose nipples were cut out, or over a pair of panties that had no crotch. Or with bare feet thrust into a pair of such incredibly high heels!
Sandra was wearing another fantasy costume: the slinky leather corset of the dominatrix, nipple-and-crotch-revealing; along with calf-high, closely fitted high-heeled black boots.
She stood with feet planted apart, while Brett, stark naked, knelt before her, licking at her cunt.
"Hullo there, little stepmother," Sandra drawled. "I must say, your brother knows what to do with his tongue. Why don't you sit down for a moment dear--sit right back on the couch, that's right, and spread your legs really wide, so that I can see that juicy little blonde pussy my daddy loves to fuck . . . and so does your nice brother, of course."
While Carol obeyed her command, she patted Brett approvingly on the head.
"That'll do for now, slave," she said. "You can get up."
Brett rose to his feet, unembarrassed by his nakedness. His powerful, athletic body was nothing to be ashamed of, indeed: nor was the proudly thrusting phallus that jutted aggressively from his loins.
"I think," Sandra said, "it would be nice to watch your sister suck that handsome joint of yours for a little while. Don't come, though. Not yet."
"How do you want us?" Brett asked, outwardly submissive, but with a broad wink at Carol.
Sandra considered.
"You and I," she said, "will sit on the couch, I think--and stepmother there can kneel on my nice thick rug. You can play with my pussy and tits while she wraps her mouth around your nice hard cock--I'll enjoy that."
"So will I," Brett agreed.
Sandra shot him a sidelong glance, but said nothing.
They arranged themselves as Sandra instructed, and Carol went to her knees between her brother's widespread legs. His prick stood vertical from his loins, and she felt a surge of almost overpowering desire as she gazed at it.
"Go ahead," Sandra told her. "Let's see how good a cocksucker you are, before we introduce you to the sweet delights of eating a hot pussy."
Carol shuddered slightly with disgust at the prospect of the latter--and with desire at the former.
Brett's cock.
She rested her palms lightly on either side of it in a soft caress, feeling the throbbing heat as the blood surged through its spongy tissues.
She stared down at the red-lipped hole that was oozing its colorless liquid.
Gently, she closed her hands around its impressively thick girth and very slowly bent her head until her tongue could push out between her rosy lips and taste the satiny skin that covered the arrow-shaped head.
Ahhhhh . . . Brett's cock . . . in her mouth again. . . .
The butterfly-gentle touch of her tongue was sufficient stimulus to turn the droplet-ooze from the tip of his prick into a sudden tiny spring, and the flow trickled over her tongue, like nectar from an immortal fountain.
Her taste buds relished the bland, nothing-flavor.
She ran her tongue more firmly over the dome of his cockhead, greedily lapping up the lubricating fluid.
Brett sucked in a harsh breath of pleasure, and the sound set off a vibration of response in Carol's pussy.
She let the cockhead slide between her lips--hard, hard, yet at the same time vulnerable; this steel-like rigidity was only made of tissue, of cells filled with blood. . . .
Her lips slipped down to below the ridge of the corona and tightened, holding him.
"Yeeahh!" he sighed with ecstasy.
"MMMM. Play with my fit.. . . " Sandra gurgled.
Carol let her head drop further, until her lips rested against the fingers that encircled the swollen shaft. She inched them back down along the pulsating rod, her lips following, the violently engorged flesh filling more and more of the sweet hot cavern of her loving mouth until it reached the barrier of her throat, and she had to stop to relax the muscles there. . . .
"Take it out. Let me see," Sandra demanded huskily.
Reluctantly, Carol's lips glided back upward, and released the straining shaft to stand free, gleaming with saliva.
Sandra's slim-fingered hand reached to pet it, spreading the slippery fluid over its head until it gleamed even more wetly than before.
"Nice . . . nice.. . . "
The brunette worked the cock skin up and down with an expert touch, and Brett leaned back, a look of sheer sexual joy on his face. Carol's jealousy bubbled up again.
"Now," Sandra said huskily, "let's see what you can do about making my pussy feel as good as your brother's big cock, cute little stepmother!"
Carol swallowed.
"No--please--don't make me to that!" she begged.
"Hmm?"
"I've never done that.. . . "
"Well, no time like the present," Sandra said.
"I--ohh--please--! "
"Don't be such a silly baby. It's not going to bite you--and you'd better not bite it," Sandra scolded.
She spread her legs, and Carol found herself looking up into the pinky-red cunt tissue, framed between the lush ringlets of Sandra's thick pubic hair.
The smell of it drifted to Carol's nostrils, like the smell of her own sex that she was often aware of when she was excited.
She stared at its intricate structure.
At the tight bud that marked the entrance to the inner canal.
At the hard pearl of the excited clitoris.
At the slick shine of the juicy membranes.
Brett's voice said sternly: "Lick it, Carol." Then more gently: "Lick Sandra's pussy, little sister."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Slowly, reluctantly, Carol put her tongue out until the tip was only a millimeter away from Sandra's moist, gleaming pussy membranes.
She shivered.
"Go on, go on," Brett whispered.
The very tip of Carol's tongue brushed the swollen red tissues of Sandra's cunt, then her tongue shot back into her mouth as though it had been burned.
"Again. And keep it there this time," Sandra ordered, her voice amused.
So once again Carol's protruding tongue tip made contact with the dark woman's cunt, and this time the tongue tip stayed with the spot it touched.
It tasted--a little musky, slightly metallic, a tiny bit like fresh fish.
Slowly, Carol relaxed a little.
She let her tongue move over the hot, damp lining of Sandra's pussy, and the taste of it flowed over her tongue.
It really wasn't bad at all. . . .
She prodded at the tight little clitoris, and Sandra gave a low hiss of pleasure.
Brett's hand touched Carol's hair lightly, approvingly, affectionately. He was pleased with her, she knew, and the knowledge sent a warm thrill throughout her body.
She licked at Sandra's snatch more strongly, bolder now she had discovered that there was nothing repulsive, nothing evil or bad-tasting about it.
Sandra moaned sweetly.
Then she pushed Carol's head gently away.
"That's good," she said. "That's very good. Now--little stepmother--we're going to do a sixty-nine."
Carol looked up at her submissively.
Sandra rose from the couch.
"Lie down on the rug," she said. "And just--do what I do to you, okay? You'll soon get the knack of it. Brett--don't you dare jerk off while you watch! There's nothing I like more than a bit of mutual pussy-eating with a curvy little number like your sister, followed by a good hard plowing from a big hard cock--and I want that cock right ready and waiting. Okay?"
"Yessirree, ma'am, lady."
"See that it is."
Sandra stretched herself out on the rug, in the opposite direction from Carol. She pulled Carols dress up around her waist and separated the two edges of the crotch-slit in the lacy red panties.
Sandra's dark-haired pussy lay only a few inches from Carol's face. She caressed Carol's hip lightly, then worked her lower arm beneath the other woman's hips.
"Lift your leg up a hit," she instructed. "Bend your knee so I can get at you--like this."
Sandra demonstrated, and the position widely separated the black-haired lies of her juicy pussy, revealing again to Carol's eyes the dark pink lining of the sensitive split.
Carol suddenly remembered how she had stroked the ass of the naked waitress; how she had dug her fingers into that sweet, swampy cunt. . . .
She moved her face a little closer to the offered snatch, and studied with sudden fascination of the folds of tissue, the trickling ooze of honey, the swollen nubbin of Sandra's deeply aroused and hardened clitoris.
And, with an odd excitement, she knew that Sandra was getting the same kind of view, in a paler, blonde version.
Again she breathed deeply, and the scent of Sandra's pussy filled her nostrils, as exciting in its way as the masculine odor that drifted from Brett's balls when he was sweating with sexual arousal.
As she looked and inhaled, she felt a breath of warm air being puffed against her cunt from Sandra's lips. Following that cue, she blew into the other woman's widespread gash, aiming the little current of air towards the engorged mound of Sandra's strangely fascinating clitoris.
A moment later she felt the soft shock of Sandra's tongue tip stabbing at the entrance to her inner canal, and Carol shot her own tongue out to contact Sandra's vulva.
"Ggmmmahhhh!" Sandra whimpered.
Then Sandra started to work her tongue avidly around Carol's pulsing clitoris, and Carol swiftly followed that lead, too, now relishing the new, yet swiftly becoming familiar, flavor of the other woman's pussy juice that seeped and flowed against her exploring tongue.
"Yes! Beautiful!" Sandra gasped, pausing in her efforts for a moment. "That's OOOHHHH!"
She ardently buried her face between Carol's white, soft-skinned thighs again.
Astonishingly pleased to find she was giving Sandra so much pleasure, Carol renewed her endeavors, and her hands began to roam over the silky flesh of Sandra's bottom and thighs and belly. Her hard-nippled breasts were pressed firmly against the other woman's trembling body.
And now Sandra was tugging Carol's legs even wider apart, and pushing her face so tightly against Carol's cunt that it was quite amazing she didn't suffocate. The burning wet dagger of her tongue started to dig and flutter deeply into Carol's vagina, pushing past the tight vulva lips into the dark, velvety depths, making Carol shudder with helpless ecstasy.
Then Sandra pulled her head back to breathe, and the next moment was back again, only this time that versatile, cock-like tongue tip was digging its way into the tight ring of Carol's asshole, and Keir, Sandra's father, had done only the night before, prior to sinking his cock into his wife's virginal asshole and deflowering that tender orifice.
Carol's lubricating honey was almost a torrent now, welling out of her cunt and trickling Wetly down her thigh; she discovered that Sandra's juices were oozing with the same copious generosity, and she sucked up their sweet muskiness with" lascivious satisfaction. She strained her head forward, but before her tongue could make contact with Sandra's ass-hole, a sudden warning tremor of orgasm shocked through her, and for a moment she forgot what she was doing. It was like trying to concentrate on the edge of a rumbling, steaming volcano!
Sandra's fingers dug into the rich hems-spheres of Carol's bottom and tugged the blonde woman even closer. Her skillful tongue abandoned the tight back hole to concentrate on sending more and more sparks of climactic electricity through Carol's burning, wanting cunt. But one of her fingers worked into the slippery ass crack and a slim finger pierced through the tight ring. There was a moment's discomfort, then the slight pain was rapidly subsumed in the wonderful glow of sexual heat that was all Carol's nerves could register.
Then, on the edge of explosion, Sandra stopped licking and tongue-stabbing her stepmother's pussy for a moment; then she began, very delicately, to chew and nibble along the sensitive edges of Carol's outer pussy lips, sucking the flesh up into her mouth and releasing it, sucking it up and releasing it, until Carol thought she would go out of her mind!
She forced her attention back to Sandra, trying to return to the dark woman the delight she was receiving. She didn't think she was practiced enough yet to try this subtle caress with the teeth, so instead she concentrated again on licking Sandra's vulva, happily drinking down the sexy liquors that flowed so abundantly from that enchanted cup.
She was delighted to feel Sandra trembling in response, and then Sandra was working on Carol's inner labia linings again, caressing then with that marvelously knowing tongue, in wet, flat, broad, long sweeps, then homing in on the quivering morsel of Carol's swollen clitoris to nudge and titillate the engorged nubbin of nerve tissue close to the edge of madness.
Carol started to squirm and shake as the thrills of blazing joy and orgasm quivered and throbbed in her pussy and her belly and her pierced asshole, centering in her engorged clitoris and radiating back to her womb, her breasts, her whole convulsing, wildly trembling body. . . .
And with triumph, she sensed a similar spasm grabbing Sandra's body, and heard her shrieks of ecstasy as the volcano within her shattered into eruption, and for long moments the two women clung to each other helplessly, wracked by an earthquake of lesbian passion, their thighs clenching about each other's mouth so that neither could breathe nor even wanted to breathe as they clutched and quivered and mouthed each other through the wild delight of their simultaneous orgasmic delight.
Then, exhausted, they rolled away from each other and lay gasping and panting, recovering their equilibrium, relishing the fading after-shocks of bliss that trembled along their nerves and died at last into a quiet contentment.
Carol sat up, shaking her head dazedly, and looked up at Brett, who was leaning back on the couch, gently massaging his hard cock. He winked at her.
"Best show I've seen in years," he commented with a lewdly appreciative grin.
Sandra climbed to her feet.
"Okay," she said, "now let me get a good hard dose of that meat-rod you're playing with, okay?"
"Yes ma'am. Where do you want it? Down the throat, up the ass, or just plain ordinary old slap in the snatch?"
"Come here," she said.
He languidly rose to his feet and sauntered over to her. She put her arms around him, and she said huskily: "Stick that thing between my legs a minute and rub my pussy, okay?"
"Okay."
Brett reached down between them and angled his cock so that it thrust between her thighs to massage the hair-covered, recently sucked lower lips.
"Kiss my tithes."
Carol watched her brother bend his head and start to mouth Sandra's high, firm breasts.
She didn't feel jealous anymore, she discovered with some surprise. She was quite pleased that Brett and Sandra were enjoying each other . . . she was a part of them, and they of her, at least while. this particular scene was being played.
Sandra leisurely caressed Brett's ass and back, sliding her cunt happily back and forth along his horizontal prick. She reached a hand behind her to touch the cockhead as it peeked out from the other side of its temporary nest.
The sensation excited Brett, and he hit lightly into her breast. Sandra hummed with pleasure, and he did it again.
"Come on and fuck me, then, hard-cock, big dick," she gasped, twisting herself out of his embrace.
She went over to the end of, one of the couches, where there was a padded armrest set at about the height of Sandra's hips. Designed that way, Carol thought as Sandra leaned over the armrest, so that her bottom was thrust up in the air. She parted her legs, and the swollen redness of her cunt was clearly displayed, like a bitch in heat.
"Come on and fuck the shit out-of me, Brett," she urged him, wriggling her hips invitingly.
Brett followed her over, his cock straining out, pointing almost straight up in its rigidity, swaying enticingly from side to side as he walked.
Sandra looked back at him over her shoulder.
"Shove it in," she urged. "Hot and hard."
She parted her legs wider yet, the rich red inner lining between the dark-haired outer lips spread wide for his delectation and merciless invasion.
Brett gripped his cock in one hand and stroked it teasingly a couple of times, then he nudged its arrow-shaped, purple-colored head into place at the open and welcoming entrance to Sandra's hot tunnel.
"Coming through!" he warned between clenched teeth, and grabbed hold of her hips. With one determined thrust, he had buried his hot, stiff cock inside her, right to the balls.
Sandra groaned ecstatically.
"There's more where that came from," Brett boasted, and wrapped his arms around her body to gather a breast in either hand, squeezing her nipples roughly between his fingers as he ground his heavy, hairy halls against the white-skinned cheeks of her well-shaped ass.
Sandra thrust back against him, her body heaving wildly. After a few moments, Brett let go of her tits and seized her hips again, slamming his cock in and out of her like a pile driver, a jackhammer, with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.
"Yeah! Yeah!" Sandra was screaming, tossing her head wildly from side to side. "Give me more of that sweet hard dick, Brett! Shove it deeper! Faster! Oh, sweet shit I'm coming I'm coming I'm coming I'M COMMMIIINNNGGG!! ! ! ! ! "
Brett had suddenly lunged forward, jamming her down over the armrest of the couch so that her legs kicked out wildly on either side of him, and she writhed and bucked like an untamed bronco, uttering whimpering cries of animal delight as he shot his hot sticky load into her wildly spasming pussy.
They lay in a collapsed heap of tangled limbs for a few seconds, then Brett straightened up and pulled his cock out of her with a juicy plopping sound. Sandra stayed sprawled. where she was, a tiny stream of cunt-juice and sperm trickling down her thigh and onto the rug.
Then she heaved herself up and tottered around to collapse on the couch.
"Ough," she gasped.
Brett looked down at his softening cock.
"You want to clean this up for me, Carol?"
It was partly a command, partly a lewd and loving invitation, she knew.
She pulled herself over to him and started to lick at his spent organ, cleaning off the thick accumulation of Sandra's rich juices.
At the touch of her tongue, it seemed to reverse the softening process. New life began to pump into the tissues, to her enormous delight.
"Hey, little sister," he said, "look what you did! Now we're going to have to stick that in a hole someplace, aren't we?"
"Yes. Oh, yes," she answered eagerly.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Any special requests today?"
She took a deep breath.
"Stick it up my ass, big brother," she said ardently. "I want it up my ass!"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Up the ass, eh, little sister!" Brett's voice was a mixture of amusement and sheer lust. "I didn't think you'd be ready for that so soon!"
Carol blushed.
"Last night," she murmured. "Keir.. . . "
"Oh, I see--he couldn't resist that tight little bottom hole, huh? Well, I can't blame him!"
"It--I--I thought he might notice that I was kind of stretched--that man with the--big.. . . "
"So you offered up your little virgin asshole as a diversion?" Brett laughed.
She nodded.
"And--uh--since you want to try it again, I take it the experience was pleasant?"
"It was . . . nice.. . . "
"That's good," Brett said sincerely.
Sandra said lazily: "Just hold some of that sperm back for my asshole in the fairly near future, okay?"
Brett threw her a mock-salute.
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Meanwhile . . . bend her over the arm of the couch, where I was. That really turns me on--seeing another chick get it bent over like a hot bitch-dog!"
"Okay," Brett agreed. "It gives a good balance for plowing, anyway. Carol, what kind of lubricant did Keir use on that sweet little rose-bud of yours?"
"Baby oil."
"Mmmmmm. you have any baby oil, Sandra?"
"Take a look in that drawer in the table, the red tube. It's a good lubricant . . . with--uh--interesting properties."
Brett found the tube, read the label, and cleared his throat thoughtfully.
Sandra said: "If you don't trust me--try it on me first!"
Brett shrugged his shoulders.
"I guess it's okay. I've heard about it."
He turned to Carol.
"Okay, little sister. How about getting those crazy split pants right off, so they don't get in the way? And open your dress so I can get at your sweet tits."
Blushing again, Carol made the adjustments he ordered, peeling off the panties and unbuttoning the front of her dress so that the open-tipped bra thrust her breasts invitingly forward, the big, dark nipples poking lewdly through the cut-outs.
Brett bent his head to lick them avidly for a few moments, then commanded: "Okay, Carol--tip yourself over that armrest and let's have that sweet curvy ass up good and high so I can really get plugged in there!"
She felt very vulnerable in that position, and quivered with a kind of apprehension as she listened to the sounds of Brett smearing lubricant on his prick.
"Wow," she heard him mutter, and wondered just what were the 'interesting properties' Sandra had referred to.
She would find out very soon!
Brett's hands cupped the generously molded hemispheres of her ass and pulled them apart.
Sandra had taken a seat where she could watch the action closely. She chuckled.
"That's cute," she said. "Look how the little dot is puckering and opening--just like a little fish mouth! Feed the fishie, Brett, darling."
"Ready, little sister?"
"Mmmmm," Carol agreed, a little anxiously.
She. felt the blunt arrowhead of his cock snubbed up against the tight pucker of her Anus.
There was a pressure, slightly painful, and she resisted for a moment, then forced herself to relax--it was Brett, Brett-and the big rod eased into her, cleaving through tissues and membranes to its full depth.
"OOOHHH!" she gasped.
"Tight?" Sandra demanded greedily.
"You better believe it," Brett responded, his voice more than a little breathless.
He glided outwards as far as the ridge beneath his cockhead, and back in again, a slow, luxurious movement over the slickness spread by the lubricant and his own dripping fluids.
Carol relaxed . . . then tensed.
"I--Brett--it--ohh--it feels--oohhht"
"It's getting to her!" Sandra chuckled.
"It's burning me . . . sort of hot and cold . . . it . . . Brett? What--? "
"Nice, huh? A little menthol, stuff like that," Sandra explained. "I had a doctor make up this formula, and it's quite harmless, used occasionally. Want some rubbed on your clit?"
"Oohhh . . . no.. . . "
Slowly, deliciously, Brett's cock thrust, stroking the cold fire in her rectum.
Sandra made a little humming sound of voyeuristic enjoyment, then suggested: "Why don't you let her sit on your lap, Brett? Then I could give her a nice little bit of clit-licking. That should send her through the roof!"
"Okay," Brett agreed.
He slid his hands around Carol's hips.
"Straighten up," he said. "Slowly."
Her asshole impaled on his rigid cock, Carol obeyed.
"Now--slowly--walk."
With her brother plastered to her back, his knees bent slightly to avoid slipping out, Carol reached the sitting part of the couch. Brett carefully sank down onto the cushions, drawing her with him, so that she nestled back into his lap. The act of sitting drove his prick even deeper into her bowels.
"Unnhh," she grunted.
Sandra knelt in front of them.
"Rub your clit for a minute, Carol;" she instructed. "Let me see you do it."
Carol was reluctant--but obediently she put her right hand against her spread cunt and worked her index finger over the upper part of the hair-covered labia, just where the pussy cleft began.
Her own touch excited her more than she expected. As her fingertip grazed against her clitoris, a sweet shock of sensation tingled through it, and the little knob almost leapt up into demanding hardness.
Brett's hands were kneading her breasts, massaging her nipples with his palms, his touch sure and knowing. Two streaks of sensuous nerve-twanging sensation seemed to flow from her nipples down to that place deep in her belly where the sex tension built, and mingled with the sparks of electricity generated by her finger stirring on her clit and the massively stuffed, hot-cold-fire-ice feeling of her rear canal.
She wriggled her finger, and a more intense spasm zipped through her pussy. Glancing at her breasts, she saw that beneath Brett's fingers, the red-rosy towers of her nipples were erect and demanding.
He saw what she was looking at, and on a sudden impulse, he hefted the right one upward.
"Suck it," he said.
Carol strained her neck downward as he pushed the massive boob up higher, and higher, until at last her lips actually managed to encircle the hard nipple for a moment, then she had to give up, because the muscular strain was too much.
She returned her attention to the more urgent needs of her inflamed pussy.
She started to rub her forefinger gently along the left side of the deep groove between the outer lips, and for a moment she pressed delightfully against the hardness of her pulsing clitoris. Then when the sensation threatened to overwhelm her, she switched to the other side of the groove.
She ran her fingertips down to the tight entrance between the inner lips, only a tiny distance away from the spot where Brett's meaty pole impaled the tautly stretched ring of her well-stuffed asshole.
Dreamily, she fondled the root of the invading rod, and he gave a grunt of pleasure.
"Want to give my balls a little action, Sandra?" he asked hopefully.
"Greedy," she chided him, but slid her hands between Carol's legs and cupped the hanging weights, massaging them gently. Her hands and wrists brushed against Carol's thighs and pussy, and sent a new shiver of lust through the blonde girl.
She thrust one of her breasts more firmly still against Brett's hand, and his big palm circled deliciously upon the up-thrust erectile flesh.
She inserted her forefinger a little way between the palpitating inner lips of her pussy.
Sandra ducked her head.
"Hold it open for me--good and wide," she instructed, her voice passion-husky.
Carol obediently set her fingertips on the outer lips and drew them even further apart, so that the pussy petals were folded all the way back.
Sandra's tongue swept in a broad stroke over the exposed inner lining.
"AhhHHHHAAAHHH!" Carol found herself yelping in helpless, delighted response.
The tongue was shaped into a bluntly pointed probe and began eagerly searching for every crevice, digging into every recess of the sweet honey-pot.
"Oohhh!"
The velvety exploring tongue invaded the inner lips, then swept upward along the little valley, and Carol jerked violently as it flickered unbearably over her tightly engorged clitoris. She almost went into a shattering orgasm, but not quite, for the wary brunette pulled away just in time.
Then the maddening, wet, hard-soft explorer flicked away from her pussy and moistly explored the inner surfaces of Carol's thighs, again licking with broad, flat tongue-sweeps, all over the delicate white skin.
Brett was breathing heavily now as her delighted squirming sent waves of sensuous motion through her flesh to his deeply buried cock.
"Ooohhh," Carol whimpered blissfully.
Brett pinched her nipples, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her jerk violently with reaction.
"Oohh . . . Brett . . . that's so.. . . "
Sandra started to blow warm breath onto the sensitive inner membranes lining Carol's pussy, and the delicate titillation made her skin prickle and gooseflesh rise all over her body for a long moment.
Then she jerked wildly again as the tormenting tongue tip suddenly darted against her clitoris.
"She's almost ready to go," Brett said. "Make her come, Sandra--I'm going to pop my nuts the moment she goes over!"
Sandra licked avidly around and over the straining clitoris, vibrating her tongue unbearably upon the throbbing tissue nubbin, then just at the crucial moment, once again leaving it deserted and desperately craving.
"Oh, please . . . please!"
"What?" Sandra teased her, taking her wonderful mouth away from Carol's cunt.
"Please . . . let me . . . make me.. . . "
"Hmm? You've got your brother's big thick cock crammed up your asshole--what do you need from me, you sweet, big-titted, hot-pussy blonde?"
The words edged Carol yet nearer to the rim of the bubbling volcano of orgasm.
"Lick me--lick my pussy!" she gasped helplessly. "Make me come! Lick it!"
"Hmm?"
"Oh . . . PLEASE! PLEASE LICK MY PUSSY SO I CAN COME! PLEASE!" Carol shrieked desperately.
Brett's fingers tightened over her breasts.
"Just a moment, Sandra," he said. "Carol--I want you to stick all your fingers up your cunt, okay?"
"Ooohhh."
Yet she bunched her fingers together and pushed them against the slippery mouth of her vulva.
"Take it one at a time," Brett instructed her. "No need to tear yourself up."
She worked her middle finger in, then followed it with the forefinger, then the other two slid easily after.
"Feel stuffed full, little sister?" he whispered in her ear, nuzzling her affectionately. "Tell me--tell your brother. Stuffed to the limits?"
"MMMmmmmm . . . ohh . . . yes!"
"Can you feel my cock through the cunt wall?"
She widened her eyes, concentrating.
"Yes! I can--"
She wriggled her fingertips against the hard bulk pressing against the thin dividing membrane.
"Yow, so can I!" he gulped.
He squeezed her nipple again, and she moaned with pleasure than was so strung out that it was perilously close to pain. She had to come!
"I have to come!"
"Do you?"
"I HAVE TO COME!! ! ! ! "
"Hear that, Sandra?"
"Yeah. I think she's getting hot, Brett."
"Should we let her come?"
"Well . . . what's it worth to us?"
"What's it worth to us, little sister?"
"ANYTHING! ANYTHING! I'LL DO ANY-THING!" she shrieked rashly, desperate now.
"Okay . . . tongue her off, Sandra!"
Carol was transfixed by Sandra's tongue once more stabbing at her clitoris, and this time it stayed there, licking, vibrating, shooting sparks right through the little marble and up into Carol's belly. Brett pinched her nipples again, and all her nerves exploded in a shower of unbearably intense, wonderful convulsions; her womb contracted in response, radiating deeper, slower waves of ecstasy through her body.
Brett was bucking and heaving beneath her, yelping and panting, pouring out his semen into her ass channel, while Sandra clung to her thighs, licking at her pussy until the last crazy tremors had died away, and they all went into collapse.
"Well, little sister," Brett said after a while. "Now, about that anything you promised.. . . "
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
They were distracted by a sharp buzz.
"Who's that at the door?" Sandra wondered. She flipped an intercom switch on the wall, and they heard, evidently in answer to the maid's similar query: "Plumber, lady. Blockage in one of the waste pipes--we gotta check out all the apartments."
"Our waste-pipe isn't blocked," the maid replied firmly.
"Gotta check it out, lady."
Sandra joined in the conversation.
"It's all right, Alice, let him in . . . er . . . let him all the way in."
She smiled around at Brett and Carol.
"Now's your chance to see my sexy little maid in action," she said lecherously. "If that plumber's even. halfway presentable, now I've given her the go-ahead, she'll--well, he won't be happy with just his plumber's helper for company afterwards, that's for sure!"
She went over to one wall and pressed a button. To Carol's astonishment, a large oil painting slowly sank to the floor, revealing a window looking into the kitchen.
"One-way glass," Sandra explained. "It's a mirror on the other side. The light in there is much brighter, you see--but switch off that lamp, Brett, to make it even clearer."
The kitchen door opened, and the outrageously costumed Alice entered, followed by, the plumber, whose eyes were bugging out as he gazed enraptured at the flashes of cutely rounded, transparently painted bottom that flashed at him with every step he took.
"Oh, he's very nice," Sandra murmured.
He was a dark-haired, burly fellow, about six feet, in his early forties. His stock body was in good trim, and radiated utilitarian muscle power.
"I wonder how big his cock is?" Sandra speculated. "I guess we'll find out in a hurry."
Alice turned and smiled at him sweetly. Her voice came to them distinctly over the intercom which Sandra had switched through to the kitchen, suppressing the speaker control so that no telltale noises would alert the plumber to the fact that he was being observed.
"You'll have to let me move some dishes out of the sink," she purred, "so you can get at the waste pipe."
"Yeah, okay, miss," the plumber stammered.
Alice leaned over the sink--further than she really needed to--and started to remove the dishes one by one, with exaggerated care.
The plumber stood staring at her even more revealed ass, and after a moment, she parted her feet a little, so that he could glimpse the dark crack that ran between her thighs.
She said: "You know all about cleaning out holes, don't you?"
"Uh--I--yeah, sure, miss. I--uh--" He decided to make a risque comment, and a lecherous leer appeared on his face. "You got any holes need cleanin' out, you just call Joe Cronski, master plumber. Day or night."
She threw him a languishing glance over her shoulder.
"How about right now?"
"Uh--lady--I gotta check that waste pipe," he said uneasily, and surreptitiously reached to tug at the crotch of His dirty blue workpants.
"He's getting a hard-on," Sandra reported rapturously.
"Well, why don't you come help me move these dishes?" Alice suggested.
"Uh--well, okay."
He awkwardly walked over to the sink and stood behind her, and started to reach over to pick up a plate.
Alice took a step back, and her bottom collided smartly with his crotch.
"Yeowagh," he gasped, in a mixture of startled pleasure. "Uh--sorry, miss, I--"
Alice backed even more firmly against him, and wriggled her perky little ass.
"Glluupl" Joe Gronski remarked.
"I've got at least one hole that needs some attention," Alice told him breathlessly. "Do you have something you could-er--do a little reaming with?"
"Awwah? Uh, lady--uh--? "
"Oh, yes," Alice cooed. "I can feel it, can't I?"
"You--"
Alice stepped back to the sink. She reached behind her and with a deliberate gesture, peeled down her panties to her knees.
Then she leaned far forward over the sink, revealing plainly the moist pink tissue that lay in the midst of her blonde pubic hair; and the little rosy dot of her asshole.
"Go to work, Joe Gronski," she urged.
The plumber was panting now. His big hands grappled with the recalcitrant zipper of his pants and wrenched it down.
The cock that came surging out of his fly was an impressive piece of meat.
"Why, it's bigger than yours!" Sandra said to Brett.
"Not as big as the stud who fucked Carol at the club yesterday, though," Brett said.
Carol started as his hand reached between her legs and started to rub the lips of her pussy. Tired as they were from the friction they had received during the sensational ass-fucking a little while ago, his touch brought a renewed warmth tingling deliciously through them.
The plumber's cock was hard and raring to go; long, thick, oozing clear moisture. Its head was an angry, inflamed red color, the shaft a pinkish brown.
His big, work-rough hands grasped the maid's hips, and without waiting for any further preliminaries, he had positioned the engorged, thick head at the lips of her quivering honey-pot and had plunged through the tangle of juice-matted hair straight up and in with one swift, masterful stroke.
A strangled gasp tore from Alice's throat.
"Oohhh!" she groaned in ecstasy.
The plumber echoed her groan, a couple of octaves lower, and he pulled out slightly, then crashed back in, so that his balls slapped against the maid's ass, his thighs sweatily striking her rounded buttocks.
Carol saw that Brett had his other hand in Sandra's pussy, working on both women at once.
"Oh, sweet josephanmary," the plumber moaned. "Oh jesus, what a tight piece of gash! What a sweet little twat! What a lovely little snatch!"
"Got a good vocabulary, don't he?" Sandra said admiringly, hunching her pussy eagerly against Brett's fingers.
"Ohh--clean it out, Joe Gronsiki, my hunky master plumber," Alice responded, entering into the spirit of his conversation. "What a big hard tool! That's such a hot dick! Wow, I never felt such a stiff dork!"
Brett slid his forefinger up Carol's vagina.
The plumber groaned wordlessly again, and grabbed at the front of Alice's dress with one big mitt. He easily plucked her right breast out of the scooped neckline and started to work at the nipple furiously. His other hand jammed itself between her and the sink, groping for her clit.
Brett extended his hand along the length of Carol's split and tickled her clit with the end of his little finger.
"Glahhpl" Sandra gasped, and Carol saw that he was doing the same lovely thing to her.
The plumber had started a fast in-and-out pumping with his rigid tool, churning the juice of Alice's pussy into a froth. They could see it leaking from her cunt and dripping down her thighs when he pulled out preparatory to the violent strokes inward.
"Always did have a cunt like a little swamp," Sandra commented affectionately.
Alice was shoving back at him, working her hips in a frenzy, torn between the two sensations of his cock plowing mercilessly into her cunt and his fingers diddling her inflamed little clitoris. She must have been squeezing his cock with her inner muscles, for his eyes suddenly bugged out.
"GlaahhhhAAAGGGGI" he roared.
"Has he come?" Sandra demanded.
He hadn't.
Alice almost had her face among the dishes now, leaning as far forward as she could get to give him as much access as possible, and he sliced in and out, faster and faster.
It was too much for Alice. She straightened up and arched back against him violently, her body shaking and spasming, supported only by his grasp on her fit and her pussy--and the rigid dick impaling her.
Sandra shuddered through a minor climax in sympathy.
"Oooohhhh . . . ooohhhh.. . . " Alice was moaning, as he finally slipped out of her pussy.
"He's still hard!" Sandra hissed incredulously.
Brett gave Carol a smart slap on the buttock.
"Okay, little sister," he said. "You go on in there and take over from Alice, huh?"
"Brett! No!"
"Yes! You promised anything!"
"Oh.. . . "
"Here." Sandra grabbed her discarded panties. "Get back into those. He'll like them. Leave your tits out--he'll like them too, I bet!"
"But what--how--"
"Little sister, you march right in there, bend over the sink, and tell him you want some of what the maid just had."
"Oh, Brett, please.. . . "
But she pulled the panties back on, and went.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The plumber was standing stroking his rigid, juice-soaked cock while Alice leaned against the sink. He was evidently trying to persuade her to another round of screwing; she was stalling, whether because she had had enough or because she expected some such development as Carol's entrance, wasn't clear.
The plumber turned, startled, and his eyes widened at the sight of Carol's nipples thrusting out of the cut-out bra, through the opened front of the gingham dress. That sight evidently reassured him somewhat, however!
Carol gulped.
She remembered Brett's instructions.
"Uh--hi," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Hi, lady." Joe Gronski licked his lips.
Carol went over to the sink, and Alice moved away, tugging her panties back up.
Carol stammered: "I want--some of--what the--maid had." Her cheeks flamed as she said the words.
"Yeah?" The plumber's face broke into a lewd grin.
"Yeah--uh--yes, I--"
Joe Gronski's uncertainty was rapidly replaced by arrogance. He grasped his juice-dripping cock more tightly and waved it at Carol enticingly.
"How about givin' it a little suck, first, lady?" he demanded.
Carol swallowed, uneasily, but figured Brett would want her to go along with his proposal.
She went to her knees on the floor in front of him. The tiles were uncomfortable, compared to the rugs in the other room.
The musky female smell of Alice's pussy mixed with the plumber's male ball-sweat. She fitted her lips around the broad head and ran her tongue expertly over the velvety-smooth skin of his glans, letting the mingled flavors of the previous fuck fill her mouth with wanton avidity.
The broad shaft slipped into her mouth, as far as she could take it, and she worked on it with all the skill she possessed.
Her knees were getting painful,. and she looked up at him. He had his hands planted on his hips, plainly reveling in his sense of being a thoroughly dominant male.
"You want to get your snatched reamed out too, do you, lady?" he demanded.
She nodded bashfully.
"Okay." He reached for her arm and pulled her up to her feet. "Get yourself bent over the sink and shove your ass up good an' high where I can get at it."
Carol took the place and position Alice had occupied a little while before.
"Want me to take your panties down, huh?" Joe demanded, flipping her skirt up around her waist.
"You can--get-right through them."
"Huh?" He thrust a hand between her legs and discovered the slit. "Hey! That's real neat! Wow, yeah!" He struck his fingers through the opening and squeezed the hairy lips of her pussy, almost too roughly for pleasure. "I always wanted to fuck a broad wearin' them trick panties--they got them in the ads in the magazines, you know? But my old lady, she'd never stand for stuff like that. Get your legs spread, lady! I'm gonna give you a dickin' you ain't gonna forget in hurry!"
He stepped close behind her, and she waited for the violent plunge inward; and when it came, she grunted as it crushed her pelvis against the cold porcelain of the sink.
"Jesus," he breathed, "but that hole's hot an' wet--even more than that other gash--jeeow!"
He cushioned her venus mound with a big hand, rubbing a meaty finger deliciously over her clit.
The huge shaft dragged partway out of her, then went slamming back in.
"Oweeee!" Carol squealed, in shocked delight.
"Yeah! Man, this is one weird day, huh? Come to check out a wastepipe--"
Out . . . IN!! !
" . . . and here's this broad wearin' a maid's outfit like you see in a picture or somethin--"
Out . . . INN!! !
"An she comes in here an' tells me to clean out her hole an' she--"
Out . . . INI!! ! !
"Pulls down them panties that you can see right through anyway an tips up her little ass--"
Out . . .
Right out!
Then his fingers were slopping around the juicy entrance to her cunt, smearing the liquid lubrication up into her ass crack.
"She spreads her legs so there's her hairy little snatch winkin' at me, and I figured, second time around, I'm gonna give it her right up the ass--"
The next moment, the fiery, slippery weapon was wedged against the puckered entrance of Carol's asshole.
" . . . but then you came along, so I reckon it's you that gets it in the rear!"
And with a mighty push, he had slithered deep inside.
She gasped in shock, glad that Brett has so thoroughly loosened it up earlier.
"Ahhh!" he moaned. "Ahh . . . that's so good. so hot . . . so tight . . . My old lady won't let me stick it up her ass much of the time . . . says it's a sin . . . bet the old priest gets a hell on a bone when she tells him that--wow! It's so tight up there!"
Carol gave him a powerful squeeze with her internal muscles, and he practically yelled.
"Goorrrr!" he uttered.
She did the same thing again.
"Jeee--zuz!! ! "
Then once again he had tugged right out of her, and she turned shakily to see what was wrong.
His erection throbbed violently, looking swollen three times bigger than it had been to begin with.
But he was looking at Brett, who had come in, still stark naked, and was standing watching.
"Now look, mister," the plumber began defensively, "it wasn't my idea to--"
Brett grinned at him.
"How'd you like to go on plugging her butt while I stick mine up her cunt?" he asked.
The plumber stared at him, then shook his head bemusedly.
"Anything you say, mister. I'm gonna wake un soon, so I might as well do whatever there is!"
"Come on in the other mom," Brett invited. "It's more comfortable there."
Back in the living room, Sandra was waiting. She was sprawled on one of the couches, one leg hiked over the arm, working a thick rubber dildo in and out of her pussy.
"Hi," she greeted the plumber. "If you've got anything left after you finish with her, maybe you can make this thing unnecessary, hmm?"
"Jeeeze!"
Brett pulled Carol down onto the floor, on her side, facing him.
"C'mon, Joe," he called. "The lady's asshole is waiting to be plugged up again before it gets cold!"
Joe dropped heavily to the floor behind her, and a moment later Carol once again felt the thick meat shaft digging into her juice-slippery asshole, while her brother's hard, eager cock, so amazingly potent, glided sweetly up into the hot canal of her velvety pussy.
In was an amazing sensation--she felt full to the point of somehow choking, even though they were nowhere near her lungs or throat.
But it was intensely satisfying. Even better than when she had had her fingers thrust up her pussy while Brett plowed her asshole earlier. Just the double penetration alone seemed to be driving her towards her climax, filling her nerves with violent heat that permeated every inch of her lower body.
And then they started to move . . .
They picked up a sort of see-saw rhythm. As Brett's cock drew outward from her cunt, Joe's would plunge to its fullest length into her ass; and when Joe's started its outward stroke, Brett's prick would come plunging back into her depths to knock against her cervix.
She was doubly impaled, doubly filled, doubly driven towards the highest peaks of ecstasy. Thought was crushed out of her brain; she could not move of her own accord; her whole being was reduced to a mass of blazing sensation that flowed over her and washed away every last remaining fragment of inhibition that could ever have lingered in her nature.
Then the climax started to break--wave after wave, like the crashing surf of the incoming tide, tossing her back and forth like a helpless piece of driftwood battered between two relentless rocks. They hurled her from one orgasm to another, until all she was aware of was a fiery red mist that danced before her eyes and through her body, and finally engulfed every last remnant of her strength, dropping her at last into a sweet abyss of utter satiation and completion.
Dimly, she was aware of them pulling out.
She managed to open her eyes after a minute, to see the plumber, who either hadn't come or had sprung a new hard-on with amazing speed, jabbing into Sandra, who was tilted back on the couch, her legs over his shoulders.
"Ooohh . . . ooohh . . . oohhh.. . . " Sandra was whimpering with steady pleasure.
Brett was sitting in an armchair, watching; his cock at last lay limp and exhausted.
"More! More!" Sandra urged.
"You want more--I'll give you more!"
Joe suddenly stood up, grabbed Sandra by that her cunt was just at the level of his cock, the ankles and hoisted them high in the air so and he stood there and slammed into her helpless body, until she was howling with delight.
She grabbed hold of her tits and squeezed them brutally, which spurred Joe on to even greater heights; he almost dragged her right off the couch in his eagerness; as it was, he pulled her further and further out until only her upper back and shoulders were still supported.
With a final eldritch shriek, Sandra climaxed, and Joe wrenched his prick out of her and his spurting semen showered the brunette's shapely body, splattering her tits and her lips and the springy patch of dark cunt hair.
Carol, almost unthinkingly, crawled over to Sandra and started licking up the slippery gobs of masculine seed.
Then the door opened again, and Alice stood there. Her face was white and shocked.
"Mr. Harker--Miss Raynes--please--quick--call an ambulance! I think Mr. Ravnes is dying! I was sucking his cock and I think he's dying!"
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"But I don't understand," Carol said dazedly. "What was Keir doing in Sandra's apartment at all?"
Brett shrugged, caught Sandra's eye, and shrugged. "Well," he said resignedly, "I guess it's confession time, little sister."
Sandra nodded.
"I was starting to feel bad about the whole set-up, anyway," she said. "Carol's a nice chick."
"Confession?" She looked from one to the other, confused. "I don't . . . what . . . ? "
They were back at the mansion, after a traumatic couple of hours at the hospital where a team of doctors had worked over Keir in the intensive care unit, but the massive stroke he had suffered had been too severe for him even to regain consciousness before he slipped quietly into death. They assured Carol that he had not suffered, that the stroke had knocked him into unconsciousness almost at the moment it had happened.
And it had happened in Sandra's apartment. . . .
"You see," Brett said. a little shamefacedly, "I've known Keir and Sandra for--well, about four years. Since I left home. I've been a kind of--er--"
"Pimp," Sandra put in succinctly, yet with a twinkle in her eyes.
"Shut up, wench."
"A--pimp?" Carol repeated blankly.
Sandra took over.
"My father," she said, "was getting old--you know that, of course. And he couldn't stand the thought of losing his sexual powers so completely as seemed to be happening. He did enjoy fucking so much, poor Papa.
"But the only thing that could really keep him going was--well, seeing things . . . a complicated sort of voyeurism. Every time he had a new mistress, she'd be exciting enough for the first time or two--then he'd want to watch her with other men--and women--but without her realizing what was happening."
"Which is where I came in," Brett admitted.
"You?"
"Uh-huh. I had to put some mild blackmail pressure on--the way I did with you. Then I'd take the girls to the club, or here to Sandra's apartment, and we'd do some scenes for Keir to watch. There's a one-way panel in that mirror wall; and the club--which Keir owned, incidentally--is all set up for just that kind of concealed viewing."
"But--here at Sandra's, too?"
"Oh, Papa and I have had an understanding for a long time," Sandra replied lightly. "I got all the money I needed to satisfy my whims; he was allowed to watch me in action with his women from time to time."
"But.. . . " Carol's mind clutched at straws. "What happened to the women afterwards? And why did he marry me?"
"Ah, the women . . . well, naturally, none of them were emotionally involved with Keir. They were installed as mistresses on a financial basis, and were happy enough with that. When he had--er--"
"Sucked one dry," Brett said.
"Thank you, Mr. Harker. Anyway, she would receive her notice. to quit, along with an extremely generous checque and a diamond neck-lace and a mink coat. They didn't suffer, I assure you! One or two of them even went to work at the club."
"As for why he married you," Brett said slowly, "that was because he thought it would add extra spice to have a young wife again at so late an age--a bit of extra novelty, to keep the juices flowing freely. So, since I'd kept tabs on you, I arranged for you two to meet; he decided you were a very attractive young lady; you seemed to regard it as a sound business venture--and so, there we were."
"He--he knew all along then. That you were my brother and . . . and everything."
"Yup. Remember the times he'd be unusually potent?"
Carol did.
"That was when he'd been watching you during the afternoon, or I'd sent him a particularly good batch of pictures."
"Were you always taking pictures of me?"
"I have a little miniature automatic camera that fits in my pocket, so . . . But no, not all the time, Carol. There were some times that I felt were--well, a little special, and nobody's business but ours."
"I see."
She stared rather blankly at the opposite wall, feeling that she had been enmeshed in a rather sinister, distasteful situation. Hadn't she been made a terrible fool of?
"But, Carol," Brett went on, as though sensing what was going through her mind, "please believe me, I wouldn't have put you through all this if I hadn't been pretty damned sure that you'd enjoy it, the way you used to enjoy the same kind of compulsion when you were sixteen, seventeen. And well, you were still kind of hung up on me, right?"
After a moment, she nodded jerkily.
He said in a low voice: "And I am very much hung up on you, little sister-I don't want to give you up ever again."
She raised her head and looked at him, surprised.
"Oh," he said, "I may well want to share you, to watch other people making it with you--but basically, I want you to belong to me, baby."
"Oh, Brett."
The involuntary shudder of delight at the prospect banished all feelings that perhaps she should resist him, stand on her dignity and refuse to have anything more to do with anyone who had tricked her and used her so shamelessly.
But he wasn't just anyone--he was Brett, her darling brother, her first, her dearest lover!
"We're all taken good care of in Keir's will--I made sure of that. We can just relax and enjoy ourselves for the rest of our lives if we want to. Travel. Fuck. Stuff like that."
He grinned at her with his engaging blue eyes, and any last traces of resistance in her melted utterly.
He added: "If we can swing it, maybe we can even get married. A little phony identification, maybe out of the country somewhere. I don't know, I'll have to look into that more closely. But anyway, little sister, we're together from now on, okay?"
"Okay!" she breathed blissfully.
Sandra stood up.
"Well," she said, reaching for her wrap, "I'm going to take off back into town, since I have a date tonight, and I'm damn sure Papa would be the last one to want me to pass it up. In fact I might be getting married myself, soon, if it works out the way I think."
She bent to kiss each of them, affectionately, and with the promise of sexual fun in the near future.
Brett and Carol sat in silence for a few moments after the door had closed behind her, then Brett said: "Let's get out of here, Carol. This place depresses me, so big and empty and servant-ridden. Let's go spend the night at a motel, hmm?"
Carol took a deep breath.
"Okay," she said. "I'll go and pack myself an overnight bag. I won't be a minute."
* * *
Carol took a long bath at the motel, lying still in the warm water, letting its soothing enfoldment calm her mind and nerves into placidity.
Then she got out, dried herself, and went out into the bedroom, where Brett was already in bed, waiting for her.
He drew back the sheet, and she crawled in beside him, and he reached to turn out the light.
They lay side by side for a moment. This was different from all their previous encounters, both sensed. One phase was over, a new one beginning.
He brushed her hand, and her slim fingers closed over his and squeezed.
He gathered his sister into his arms, relishing the sensation of her large, soft breasts mashing against his chest, and her clean-smelling hair brushing his lips. He slipped his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. Her lips were warm and soft and sweet, and her hot tongue came darting out to meet his own. He could feel her nipples hardening, pushing out against his chest.
One of his hands slipped down the pleasing curve of her back to cup her generous bottom cheek. Her skin was very silky to the touch, and the flesh filling his palm was firm and resilient. He pulled her even closer, and her triangle of springy pubic hair scrubbed up against him.
His cock started to twitch into hardness.
One of her hands now traced a sensuous path down between the fronts of their bodies, slipping to investigate between his thighs. The warm fingers caressed his rising shaft, then she drew herself out of his embrace.
He felt her shoving back the covers and crawling down to position herself between his legs. A breeze of warmth touched his cock; and then the wet heat of her tongue was exploring its limp flesh, bathing the velvety mushroom of its head in hot saliva. The moist caress sent a tingle of excitement shivering through his loins and he felt his prick engorging even more full with the wildly pulsing blood.
As his cock reached its full hardness, she ceased to lick, and maneuvered the swollen head into the warm cave between her soft, sweet lips. Her teeth scraped over it, very gently, just enough to provide a shock of sensation that dragged a gasp of pleasure from his throat.
Affectionately, he stroked her hair.
One of her hands slipped around his buttocks, and a fingertip stroked excitingly along the cleft, then down to the engorged ridge between his asshole 'and the roots of his cock. She rubbed her fingers along it for a moment, then cupped his balls, just firmly enough to add to his growing pleasure.
She moved her head so that his stiff rod slid sweetly into the humid velvet of her mouth, then on, incredibly far on, until the tender lips were pressed against the very base of his masculinity. Then, inexorably, the blissful sensation was removed as her head tilted back, leaving his spit-soaked shaft stabbing futilely at the air.
Then she was stretching out beside him again, and they wrapped their arms around each other, lips and tongues once more meeting in ardent desire.
A little breathless, he broke the kiss after a long minute, and nuzzled at the fragrant hollow of her throat, then blazed a fiery trail with his tongue to one of her breasts, scooping his tongue around the thrusting, rubbery-textured nipple, tasting the flesh that surrounded it.
She whimpered softly with pleasure, and her hips made a little thrusting movement against his.
He visited the other abundant breast, then continued his exploration down the front of her body, flicking his tongue tip into. her naval for a moment, then continuing lower still, until his tongue met the clean, recently bathed fluffiness of her thick pubic ringlets.
With careful fingers, he drew apart the outer lips, and blew a current of air onto the exposed flesh beneath, visualizing its moisture-shiny pinkness. Then he ducked his head until his lips were touching those other intimate lips that protected her inner sex. The sweet, ocean-reminiscent scent filled his nostrils, and he breathed deeply of its aphrodisiac perfume.
His cock was twitching with the desire to plunge into her hot tunnel, but instead his tongue began to lave the juicy membranes, lapping up the sexual nectar. She began to quiver and buck slightly, uncontrollably, when the tip of his tongue searched out the hard morsel of her clit.
Her lascivious whisper floated to his ears: "Fuck me, Brett--fuck me!"
He squirmed upward, the front of his body rubbing along hers, the chest hair rasping against her stomach and then her breasts as he settled himself in position on top of her. Her thighs, quivering with excitement, parted widely, and her tender fingers gave his cock a loving squeeze before guiding its blunted arrowhead into position against her juice-wet pussy.
He thrust forward, and her pelvis. rose to meet him. His rod of flesh cleaved joyfully inward, like a child's finger poking into a dish of jello. The velvety inner walls of her cunt contracted, seizing him lovingly.
For almost a minute they lay without moving, relishing their new-found closeness, hearing only each other's slightly faster than usual breathing. He kissed her again, less passionately now that the main sexual connection had been effected; the touches of his lips and tongue to hers were, during this quieter interlude, almost wholly tender.
Experimentally, he moved his hips a fraction of an inch, so that his rigid cock stirred in her; he let it slide a little way out, then thrust back home. The inner walls of her pussy seemed to quiver and clutch, embracing the scarcely yielding bulk of the welcome invader in a loving grasp.
The end of his cock was pressing against her cervix. He enjoyed the depth of penetration for a few moments more, then grunted with pleasure as her inner muscles squeezed his cock with a sort of milking action.
Then he began to work in and out of her, at first only a little way, until she started to match his rhythm with that of her own pelvis and hips. He increased the length of his hot stroke, a traction more with each outward pull, until it reached the point where the ridge of his corona was feeling the outer air every time. Each inward thrust was like plunging into a bath of pure liquid fire.
He suddenly pulled out of her, leaving her gasping, and hooked his arms beneath her thighs, lifting them to the rest on his shoulders. Then he plunged back. into the lush furnace of her widespread cunt, plowing to her full depth and his entire length. The moist sounds of their fucking filled his ears, blending with her harsh gasps and tiny moans as he plunged in and out of her innermost recesses. He could hear his own harsh breathing too, and realized he was perilously close to what promised to be a violent eruption. He increased the tempo suddenly, and she began to flail her arms, and an unearthly scream burst from her throat as her body convulsed so violently it was all he could do to remain in position. But the stimulus of her orgasm was too intense to be resisted, and with a helpless groan, the boiling sperm frothed out of his balls and fountained from his spasming cock, tossing him helplessly on billows of ecstasy into near unconsciousness.
He collapsed on top of her, exhausted, her thighs still draped over his shoulders so that she was bent double beneath him.
They stayed that way for a couple of minutes, and he grinned to himself as he felt the continuing warm clutch of her fiery pussy massaging his cock back into new life.
"Again, little sister?" he asked. "MMMMmmmmm, again, big brother," was her blissful reply.
