The seething passions that lurk within many individuals are often hidden beneath a veneer of normalcy, exposed only under extremely tempting conditions.
The woman who, after a few drinks at a party, takes on all comers, male and female alike. The man who, during a strip show at a stag party, climbs up on stage with the girl and performs with her in front of his friends. The couple who, under group pressure, join the neighborhood mate-traders.
Cathy Delaney is one of these outwardly proper and quite normal people. But within her a love of her brother and a depth of passion she never dreamed existed lie coiled like snakes, waiting only for the proper stimulus to arouse them.
A fictional story about a society that refuses to. face many of its real problems.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Kirsten Delaney stretched like a panther and one long, slim, shapely leg emerged from the slit of her skirt. It was a delicious-looking leg, as Kirsten knew very well, and now, covered in red-mesh stockings, its willowy curve was irresistible. Patricia, beside her, put her hand on Kirsten's knee. Two fluttering breaths later, she had followed the contour of Kirsten's thigh into the slitted gown.
Kirsten smiled.
So did Patricia's husband Tony. He smiled, and then he took a fresh, deep hit from his shell pipe. He was an artist, and spiritual revelations were his stock in trade. The pungent scent of Tony's burning hashish filled the room, filling Kirsten's nostrils as well. I'm getting fucked, she thought as Patricia's fingers touched the uncovered swell of her pussy. Make that stoned, Kirsten reminded herself. Fucked comes later.
Ignoring the playful antics of Patricia's hand for a moment, Kirsten picked up her snuffbox. She filled a spoon with white powder and inhaled.
"Oh," she said, leaning back to let it take control. At the same moment, Patricia's middle finger wriggled, then buried itself in Kirsten's pussy.
"God, you haven't lost a bit of the old snap!" Patricia said, her finger thrusting inside Kirsten's white gown. She didn't have to tell her old friend anything. Kirsten's head was full of coke and her snatch was full of finger. Patricia looked at her husband, who was repeating the process of toking and stoking. "This is one of the great cunts of our time."
"Maybe the greatest," Kirsten put in modestly, her twat milking Patricia's jabbing finger.
"Honest to God," Patricia went on. "I've known her for six or seven years and now, thousands of diddles later, she's still got a fucking mousetrap between her legs! How in the name of God do you do it, Kirsty?"
Patricia didn't wait for an answer. Her finger still imbedded in Kirsten's cunt, she went on. "Remember all those crazy things we used to do in school?" Patricia giggled, still sounding very much like the girl Kirsten had gone to college with, someone young, flighty, ready for anything. Her finger stiffened in Kirsten's cunt and her voice dropped an octave.
"God, I have missed you!" she said desperately, throatily.
Kirsten put her hand on the outside of her gown, touching Patricia's hand.
Tony put down his pipe, stood to his full six feet plus. His lanky frame moved across the white carpeted floor toward the couch where the women were sprawled. "So have I," he said, "and those stories of Pat's are all I've had to go on."
Kirsten looked up, smiling an invitation. "Wait no longer," she grinned.
He dropped to his knees beside her, taking the snuffbox.
"Not bad," he complimented when he'd taken a good hit of the powdered pleasure. Tony sniffed again, then he put his hands on Kirsten's breasts. He held her with a twisting grip but her nipples were already erect, her tits already hard with desire.
She moved her face towards his, kissing him. His mustache tickled her lips.
Tony pulled her tongue into his mouth and went down on it. With talent, Kirsten decided. So much talent that she was responding to him, scarcely noticing that he was pulling down her dresstop, petting her bare nipples.
"Hey," Patricia said, "what about me? Pass that stash this way, babies. Little bunny needs a hit."
They all came apart, Kirsten easing back, stripped to the waist now. Her nipples were a splendid shade of pink on the milky-white ends of her tits, and the delicate lacework of blue veins showed through her lovely flesh. The tips of her nipples were still hard, from her excitement and from the handiwork of Patricia's husband. She touched her tits, feeling how stiff her nipples were.
Patricia took the snuffbox. She looked from Kirsten to Tony and back again. She leaned over her husband, undid his denims, then slid them down. Beneath he was naked, his cock long, slender, already half-hard. Patricia flipped his cock, fondling his prick in the palm of his hand.
"Gorgeous, huh?" Patricia said, and Kirsten nodded sincerely.
Patricia opened the snuffbox, took a pinch between her fingers, and applied it to the tip of Tony's cock, peeling back the foreskin so she could expose the slick-looking purple of his glans.
At the touch of the powdered drug on his cock, Tony's prick began to harder. His cock thickened, reddened, his glans engorging and lifting before the woman's delighted eyes.
Hard, Kirsten decided, his prick must be a good nine inches long. She hoped it was a great nine inches. But if Patricia had married him, he couldn't be less than superb. Kirsten knew her friend that well.
Patricia coated Tony's cock-knob with powder, applying it gingerly as if she were afraid of bruising him. At each rub he rocked up and down, saying "Jesus!"
When his glans was dusty with dreamdust, Patrick took Tony's cock into her mouth and started sucking. Her cheeks sucked in, and she twisted her head from side to side. She made soft humming noises as her tongue soaked up the cocaine. Patricia's lips curled, and Kirsten knew that her friend had gotten a fine hit. That was an inspiration too, she thought. Have to try it someday.
"Oh, yeah," Patricia said finally, taking her mouth off Tony's prick. His cock was wet and very red from her firm suckling, but there wasn't a trace of cocaine on the glans.
Patricia rubbed her lips, savoring the dynamite coke.
Why not? Kirsten wondered. She retrieved the snuffbox, took out a pinch, and smeared it on Tony's cock.
She didn't have to retract his foreskin and she didn't have to smooth it on. His prick was hard, his foreskin pulled back of its own accord. His cock was so wet the stuff clung to his prick like mud.
Kirsten's tongue shot out and she flicked a taste of cocaine off Tony's prick.
"If I wasn't numb," he told her, "I think I'd really dig that."
"I know you would," she said huskily, just before she began to suck on his prick like the champion she was.
When Kirsten Delaney gobbled a prick, it stayed gobbled. She swallowed his cock. When he was swallowed, she began to suck. Without the wolfish greedy noises Patricia usually made when she blew a-prick, of course. Patricia had been born upper class. She could afford to be sluttish and vulgar.
Kirsten had had to fight her way to where she was now, and she could not for a moment endure the thought of being anything less than a real aristocrat. Not even when she was giving head.
Tony liked it, obviously. He rocked on his heels and he moaned throatily and he grabbed her by the head, and if she'd let him, he'd have fucked her in the mouth. But that wasn't her choice. When she had enough of cocksucking, she easily disengaged herself from him, Squeezing his prick, she turned to Patricia.
Who, at the moment, was spraddled on the sofa with her pants and panties down to her knees and the opened snuffbox in her hand. Patricia smeared a generous dab of cocaine on the hairless lips of her cunt, stroking her pussy. An ecstatic face proved that she'd definitely hit the spot.
"Oh, Christ, that feels good," she sighed. "I could fuck the whole Mexican army tonight."
"That was last week, babe," Tony grinned, fisting one hand around his cock and stroking it up and down.
Patricia laughed hysterically. She turned to Kirsten. "Hey, bitch," she giggled. "I think I've finally done something kinkier than you ever have. No, I mean it! Did you ever fuck an animal?"
"Have I ever!" Kirsten purred. "There was a young actor type I used to see on Thursday afternoons and he-"
"No, bitch!" Patricia interrupted. "I mean an animal-with four legs and a tail! Somebody gave us this dog, see, an Irish setter they said, but he was really a fuck hound. Year before last, in Puerto Vallarta. He'd watch us at nights, stay awake for hours just to see us fuck. Well, one night we were snorting, and Tony dared me to fuck the dog. So I figured, what the fuck? I mean, who else would know? The dog wasn't gonna tell anybody!
"So got him onto the bed, and I played with his little dickie till it got all hard and red and big, just coming out that hairy whatchamacallit, and when it shot out just right, I caught it in my fingers and sucked it. God, Kirsty, did you ever hear a horny dog howling?" Patricia closed her eyes, threw back her head, and did an imitation of a horny dog.
Kirsten was laughing with tears in her eyes.
"Anyway, I sucked him, see, and I sucked him, and I sucked him! And after a while he came in my mouth. Cross my heart and hope to shit! Shoulda heard him howl then. And I kept on playing with him till he was ripe and ready again, and then I let him get on me. I still have this little scratch on my leg where he clawed me."
"Was he any good?" Kirsten wondered.
"Better than a lot of guys, present company definitely excepted. But his cum tasted funny. Not like a man's, exactly, but not bad, either. Oh, he was a freaky dog! Some nights we'd fuck just to get him turned on, and then sit back, let him take over. Aggressive pooch. Bisexual, too. He enjoyed licking Tony's prick, though you had to watch out for his teeth, and he really got off lapping jism while it was leaking out of my pussy. Oh, I know you don't believe it. Nobody ever did, till they saw it."
"I'd like to see it," Kirsten said. "I might even try it" Tony shook his head. 'Too late." He was still masturbating his prick, but in a casual fashion, as if he were doing it in his sleep. "We had a hell of a bad summer-I couldn't sell a painting for shit, let alone money, so-"
"So we had to eat him," Patricia sighed. A tear oozed from the corner of her right eye and slid like mercury down her tanned cheek. "He was one in a million, Kirsty.
Again Patricia sighed, touching her pussy as she did so. Kirsten watched as her friend's finger descended upon the clean-shaven cunt-Patricia was tanned all over, thanks to the Mexican sun-stroked up and down, playing among the wet cunt-lips, then plunged in.
Patricia was stoned. From her sudden yip and the convulsive lunging of her ass when her finger slammed into her cunt, it was clear that she was surprising herself. But a pleasant surprise, all the same, because she kept on doing it. Her finger moved in and out with deep, ramming jabs, and her finger was wet and glistening just like her pussy.
As for Kirsten, she wasn't into masturbation any more. Not even when she was nice and high, as she was now. But watching other people do it. That had its moments.
Patricia was frigging herself so energetically that her sudden moaning orgasm wasn't surprising. She went into a series of moans and shudders and cries, and her heels tapped insistently on the padded floor. Inside her silk blouse, the stiff red caps of her nipples were jiggling about. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her eyes rolled before she closed her eyes.
Kirsten watched, approving. She put her hand on Patricia's crotch, forcing the inserted finger deeper into her pussy, and Patricia moaned again.
Kirsten stroked the shaven lips of her girlfriend's cunt, hummed, then looked at Tony once more.
Just in time to catch the first gush of his ejaculation, full in the face. Kirsten wasn't really fucked up, but her head was in the right place, and she could feel every bit of the sticky cum as it first clung to her flesh, then began to drip down her beautiful face. She leaned toward his prick, her mouth opening, and he thrust his creaming cock into her mouth so she could suck out the rest of his seed.
Her jaws and lips tightened on his cock, and her mouth was like a vacuum cleaner on his spurting prick.
Kirsten grabbed him delicately by the hips, her fingers first brushing, then digging into his skin. As she got into her sucking, she clawed him. Tony winced and rocked up and down as Kirsten began to scratch him while she drained his prick, but he didn't stop squirting. If anything, his cream poured out of his cock in thicker, heavier streams. Her mouth Was full, not only with his long, slender cock, but with his jism too.
She didn't swallow. Instead, Kirsten closed off her throat so that her cheeks puffed out with their store of sperm. She worked him with her lips. The cocaine had heightened her perception, so that she could not only taste the particular flavor of this man's cum, but she could also feel each twitch of muscle in the shaft of his ejaculating cock. When the blood pulsed in Tony's prick, to keep his cock hard in her mouth, Kirsten felt each of those pulsations vibrating against her lips.
Coke was the only way to fly. Cocaine seemed to open up all her body, to turn her into one woman-sized mass of raw nerves, ready to be stimulated, to be scraped into ecstasy.
Like right now!
Kirsten sucked and tongued until she had a mouthful of cum, and then she let his cock bounce from her mouth.
Tony's prick was still very hard and very wet with leftover globs of jism on his peeled-back foreskin, and another long trail of cream was dripping from his cock as he straightened up. The tang of his cum was on her tongue, and she'd never forget him. Kirsten remembered the taste of every man she had ever sucked to orgasm and she couldn't be fooled, even in the dark. She stored Tony's sperm inside her memory bank and turned to Patricia.
"Mmmm," Kirsten said, her lips sealed to hold the cum inside.
Patricia moved toward her. The two women came together, mouths opening as they met, and the jism flowed like gravy, some of it into Patricia's, more down her chin. It was a messy, wet, sticky kiss, and they laughed as they repeated one of their favorite college party games.
Patricia's tongue thrust into Kirsten's mouth to lick away the remaining droplets of cum while Kirsten unbuttoned her friend's blouse and got her hands on the red-nipples tits. Hard nipples between pressing fingers.
"Okay!" Patricia said, laughing. Her mouth gleamed from the jism that ringed it, and she licked her lips. "That was pretty good for a start. What do you think of this man of mine?"
'Tasty," Kirsten acknowledged, "but can he fuck, too?"
"Can you?" Patricia challenged Tony. "Remember, she's had the very best."
"Not yet," Tony said modestly, shaking his erect prick at the women. He stroked his cock with cum-wet hand, tensing up his hard-on.
"By the way," Patricia simpered, thrusting her hand once more into the slit of Kirsten's gown, "when do I get my evens up? I mean, you've sucked off my husband. Don't I get a crack at yours? Pardon the pun."
"Len?" Kirsten opened her thighs to Patricia's questing hand. "Len is the original All American boy. Except for a kink or two in his dark past. He would be very shocked if he were here right now, so I prefer to keep him in blissful ignorance. Blissful for both of us. I give him all he wants, and the rest of the time I get all I want. Listen-you're doing some magical things to me, you hot little bitch, but why don't we take it into the bedroom? I feel like a teenager doing it on the couch."
"Thought you'd never ask," Patricia grinned. She stood up, dropped her pants and panties. "Oh, yeah!" she said. "Now I'm ready to fuck all night. Anybody else want some coke?"
Tony got out of his pants. He took the snuffbox and rubbed some cocaine on his gums like snuff. Patricia knelt behind him, applying powder to his asshole. Tony lunged up, his cock wobbling. Kirsten used her spoon, like a lady, taking a double jolt for good measure.
The drug got into her head all the same. Kirsten smiled and felt as if she'd been switched on like a hot plate. All night? She felt like fucking till the end of next week. Kirsten grabbed Tony's cock with one hand, Patricia's ass with the other, and she led them into her bedroom.
"Come along, children," she said, "we're going to play hump the hostess."
CHAPTER TWO
They finished undressing in the bedroom, though there was little to remove.
Patricia tossed away her shirt and kicked off her shoes, Kirsten dropped the white gown to the floor, and Tony took off his tank shirt.
It was perfect, Kirsten thought. Three beautiful people in one beautiful room, with an emperor-sized bed awaiting them. And they were all definitely beautiful people.
Tony, tall and lean, his artist's fingers and his satyr's eyes. Not to mention his proud, jutting cock. Kirsten could still taste its fluids on the tip of her tongue, and she was anxious to find out exactly what kind of man Patricia had gotten for herself.
There was Patricia, too, of course. She had been Kirsten's closest friend in college. Friend, confidante, partner, lover. They hadn't seen each other in two years. When they kissed hello at the airport, and Patricia's tongue thrust into Kirsten's mouth, tits rubbing tits, thigh to thigh while passers-by pretended not to stare-well! Kirsten heard the same old bells ringing, saw the same fireworks exploding.
She and Patricia were tall, long-legged, with well-defined tits. They had the kind of bodies Vogue photographers loved to drape in expensive clothing.
Kirsten's hair was reddish blonde, a deeper brown between the legs, while Patricia's hair was gold that complemented the Mexican tan she'd picked up during the last couple of years while slumming with Tony. Patricia's pussy hair was also that same shade of gold, but at the moment her cunt was shaved.
Kirsten touched Patricia's pubic mound, her nail skirting along the edges of her friend's moist cunt, and she asked why the bush had vanished.
"Oh," Patricia said, "after three abortions in two years, I decided I might as well save them the trouble. The pill? All of a sudden it started making me fat." She rubbed her tummy. "So now I take my chances. Besides-with the hair gone, it's easier to get to the good parts. Are you waiting for an invitation, bitch? Get to the good parts!"
Kirsten knelt, grabbing Patricia and squeezing. Her tongue was tingly from the cocaine, and it tingled all the more when she slid it across Patricia's shaven mound. Pat hadn't touched up her cunt-hair today, because little stubby hair-ends were on the flesh of her cunt. They scraped Kirsten's tongue. Back and forth she licked, until Patricia trembled and suddenly dropped backward.
The edge of the bed broke her fall, and Patricia's ass plopped onto the soft mattress. Patricia went farther back, her arms stretching across the bed, and she lifted her knees as Kirsten licked her cunt.
"God," Patricia moaned, "how did I live without this for two fucking years?"
About as easily as I did, Kirsten thought, applying the tip of her tongue to Patricia's pussy. The meaty, wet lips parted easily and she thrust inside, coating her tongue with the other girl's oozing juices. A few wicked stabs in and out, the flicking tongue-clit contact maintained between deeper plunges, some finger-work in the pussy-hole-Patricia's legs jerked and she closed them around Kirsten, shivering and gasping and whining as she came.
Kirsten covered the snatch with her moist, red-lipped mouth, and she sucked up her friend's orgasm. Not bad after such a long separation, she told herself, but she'd kept in practice, even with her favorite girlfriend hibernating in some diphtheria-ridden Mexican village.
Kirsten even had a few new tricks she'd learned since the last time she and Pat were in bed together, and teaching them would be a pleasure indeed.
Pleasure! Kirsten thought. She had to find that where and when she could nowadays. Not like college, not like the year she'd spent as a single girl on the make in the big city. She was married now, and Len was a successful man, a good provider, a fair fuck, but so breathtakingly square. Well-not that square, perhaps. There was the kinky matter of Cathy.
Still, Kirsten didn't have to ask him to know that he wouldn't approve of the scene in progress tonight. Len's brand of fucking was the old-fashioned one-on-one. Such a provincial outlook for a man of his money and position. He hadn't heard of the sensual revolution apparently. But his beautiful wife had, and Kirsten liked to think of herself as the Eva Peron of that movement.
As for Len-well, Kirsten gave him all the pussy he could handle, any time he wanted it. Did he have a right to begrudge her whatever additional satisfaction her senses demanded? Of course he didn't.
Kirsten licked at the pussydew on Patricia's cunt-lips and turned to Tony, who had been watching the performance with interest. His cock was very hard and Kirsten wondered if he was half as good as Patricia said he was.
Kirsten stood up and went to him, rubbing her cunny-wet mouth against his and stroking the rigid shaft of his prick.
"I've made both of you come," Kirsten announced, "so now it's your turn. Let's examine your credentials, darling."
Tony shoved her onto the bed, beside his wife, and he hopped in pursuit. Tony fell upon Kirsten eagerly, kissing her body from mouth to pussy with hot, hungry lips.
Kirsten lay back and enjoyed it. He was certainly aggressive enough, and she appreciated sexual aggression because she considered it one of her own better qualities.
As Tony got really active on her nipples, sucking them to pink hardness and making sure they stayed that way, Patricia entered the bout. She started to tickle Kirsten's feet. Not enough to rip the red stockings but certainly enough to make Kirsten's feet jerk and flutter in delight. Patricia even took the toes in her mouth and suckled them, fighting the nylon mesh of the hosiery, and Kirsten stretched like a tigress in heat.
Tony moved down Kirsten's belly, rimming her navel, sliding his tongue among the fluff of brown curls at her mons.
Patricia made her way up Kirsten's legs, aiming for the sensitive bare flesh above the tops of the red nylons. She got there fast and she began to lick her way around Kirsten's garters.
Kirsten shut her eyes and pretended that she was a Chinese empress being adored by a pair of sex slaves. It was one of her favorite fantasies and, when the conditions were right, she could smell jasmine, hear the rustling of silks, the singing of a nightingale somewhere in the distance. Bodies were placed here for her private enjoyment, hands, mouths, organs to please her, and they did precisely that.
They propped Kirsten on the bed, supporting her with their bodies as they lavished worship upon her.
Tony was above, eating furiously at her cunt. Kirsten's clit was like a pea and he sucked until it swelled in his mouth.
At the same time Patricia was beneath Kirsten's uplifted ass-cheeks, parting her ass-cheeks while she tickled her asshole with the tip of her wet, playful tongue. She hadn't forgotten.
Abruptly the fantasy faded from Kirsten's mind, and she felt herself being flipped over rudely. As her tits came down upon the sheet, Tony intruded his body between her legs, spreading them apart, so that now all the openings of her lower body were on vivid display.
Kirsten scooted forward on the bed. She looked back to see Patricia guiding Tony's cock.
"Here, babe," Patricia giggled.
Kirsten felt the tip of Tony's cock nuzzle her asshole. She was wet and ready there, from the licking of Patricia's tongue, and Tony was definitely hard and ready. And his cock was not so thick that this would be an exercise in sadism, thank God.
Kirsten closed her eyes, thought dreamy thoughts, and prepared herself to be cornholed. She willed her rectum to spread wide, to suck his cock up her asshole.
"Yes," she whispered, "fuck my ass, please!"
"Hard," Patricia cut in. "She likes it hard!"
Tony's cock began to burrow fiercely, aggressively. Kirsten was relaxed, but she wasn't prepared for the sudden driving force of Tony's cock as it pierced her anal ring and lurched its way up her ass.
"OHHHHHHHHHH!" Kirsten screamed, her face going white, her hands clawing at the bedsheets. Her ass jerked and shuddered, as if it were trying to shake Tony's cock out, but her asshole was so tight and clutching that he was in her rectum to stay.
He held her by the ass-cheeks, not moving for a moment.
"Oh, don't mind her screaming," Patricia said, throaty excitement obvious in her voice. "Look at the bitch-she's ready to come a bucketful! Go on, babe, bugger the slut! Oh, I love her!"
Patricia fell beside Kirsten, started covering her face with hot, wet kisses.
Kirsten giggled in reply, threw her arm around Patricia's neck, and pulled her into a tight embrace.
Behind Kirsten, Tony got the message. His hands placed firmly on her buttocks, he began to fuck her asshole.
"OHHHhhhh-hhh -nnn-MMMMMMMM!"
Kirsten was full of his cock now, his balls dangling beneath the split of her ass, and she jiggled her ass to prove how cooperative she could be.
"Remember," Patricia was saying, "when we kidnapped those two sailors in Boston? Callow young hillbillies looking for a few thrills, Tony, and we carried them off to this hotel full of winos and hookers, and we rented a room, threw the key out the window and blew their minds! I've never been ass-fucked so much before or since-God, it must be true, what they say about men on ships at sea! I wonder if they got court-martialed, Kirsty? They were only on a twenty-four-hour pass, but we kept them in that fleabag place for three or four days-I don't remember how long, exactly, because I was so fucking stoned, and-"
"Oh, shut up," Kirsten groaned. Patricia immediately stopped talking. That was a lot better. Now there was no distraction. Kirsten could concentrate on the cock that was reaming her sweet, responsive ass.
God, she loved getting ass-fucked! Len hadn't much interest in the kinks and quirks of fucking. He could eat or be eaten, and he fucked a mean cock in a girl's pussy, but he didn't like to masturbate for Kirsten, he didn't like to fuck her in the ass, and if she played with him under the table at a restaurant, or in the theater, or in cabs, he always got so depressingly flustered.
Once she'd tried to persuade him to fuck her in the upstairs bathroom at a party, just for a quickie-there was no lock on the door and people were constantly passing the door-but he refused her politely as possible.
Well, what Len didn't know could never hurt him. The next man who came into the bathroom had been as adventurous as Kirsten. He sat on the edge of the commode, his cock sticking up, and she had lifted her skirt and planted his seed deep in her sucking cunt.
Oh, this was out of sight! She hadn't felt this excited since the last time she and Patricia had fucked a couple of men, god, so long ago! It was hard to believe Patricia was married now. She'd never seemed the type. She had money, plenty of it, and she didn't have to find a well-off husband to set herself up in life.
Tony had money, too, or at least his family did. He and Pat were currently disinherited-getting back into their parents' good graces was one reason they'd temporarily abandoned their Bohemian life style in Mexico and come back to the States.
OH! Tony jabbed her deeply with his cock and a warm sweetness radiated from Kirsten's plugged asshole. She arched her buttocks high, jerking on his prick, and she tried to fuck him for all she was worth before her orgasm made her dizzy.
She wanted to milk the moment for its delicacies. Kirsten tried to think of other things. But her fingers were digging and clawing the sheet-oh, shit! She'd torn the fucking sheet! But what was a bedsheet when she were being ass-fucked so pleasantly?
She hoped Pat and Tony stayed around for a while. They could have some fun together, especially with Len away. And even after he came back, it would be no problem for her to get out from under his protective wing for a few-for a hell of a lot-of orgies. She had friends and lovers the two of them should definitely meet, anyway.
"Deeper, you bastard!" she whined. "And harder! Fuck my ass harder!"
With men, Kirsten had discovered, taunting and challenging them was the surest road to better performance. No man liked to think that he wasn't fully satisfying his partner.
Tony was a man. The bite of her words stirred him to shove his cock up her tight asshole with a demanding, driving ferocity that made Kirsten moan and groan. Bubbles of orgasmic excitement were already leaking from her pussy, and she was astonished that she was fingering her clit as she took him home anally, again and again.
She tried to picture Patricia fucking the dog. An Irish setter. They were red and hairy. How could Pat have let a dog mouth her, fuck her, cum inside her? God-Patricia had even said something about sucking the dog off!
Kirsten shut her eyes and conjured up an image of the depravity that must have gone on in Mexico. At least it hadn't ruined Pat's cunt. That delicious hole was as tasty as ever, and just as responsive. She could still remember the first time she'd licked it, back in college, and Patricia just kept getting hotter and better. Who said women were washed up at twenty-six?
"Oh, Jesus!" Kirsten yelped.
Tony was doing some things to her asshole that no one else had ever done. The head of his lunging cock seemed to be enmeshed in the tangle of her guts and there was a crazy stuffed feeling in the pit of her stomach as she lurched and bucked to receive his cock. What the fuck?
"OOOOOOHHH!" Tony wailed, digging his fingers into Kirsten's ass and shaking her on his cock.
Kirsten strained her neck in an effort to see, but she couldn't. She lifted her chest and looked beneath. She saw what was happening.
Patricia was behind Tony, her slim hand and arm embedded in his asshole. And she was hand-fucking his asshole, buggering the bugger.
Kirsten started to laugh. She'd seen that in a faggot film at one of those sleazy downtown theaters, some young jock driving his fist up another young jock's asshole, but she'd never found a man who would let her try it on him. Well! Now she had. Tony was due for the same trip as soon as he was ready to fuck Patricia. She wondered: Does your hand smell like shit afterwards? Something else to find out. Life was a process of learning, after all, and Kirsten was open to anything.
Patricia obviously knew what she was doing. Tony squirmed as she reamed him out, and he did his goddamnedest to pass the treatment along to Kirsten. His cock fucked around in her ass with such vigor, such enthusiasm, that Kirsten wondered if her rectum would ever snap back into its natural tight-sheathed condition, but that was no matter. If it didn't, there were surgeons who could fix her up good as new. Money was no object.
The steady, powerful drives of Tony's prick did the job.
Kirsten flogged her clit with shaking fingers, she sucked up his prick with her anal muscles, and she felt her tits hardening like stones. She sucked in a gasp, whooshed it out almost immediately. There was a rushing of juices from her finger-filled pussy. The ring of her asshole seemed to clamp shut around Tony's cock.
Patricia whooped in excitement, far, far to the rear.
Kirsten's eyes rolled-she could feel them rolling, see the room turning upside down-she had to shut her eyes to the distraction, and she screamed for the joy of screaming.
Somehow-she never understood how-Tony dragged his cock from her jerking, quivering asshole. Without its nine inches of slender, rigid support, Kirsten collapsed on the bed, still frigging her cunt, still moaning with her come.
She heard a slurping sound-she willed her eyes to open. She saw Tony and Patricia, going at it like a pair of sex-mad hogs. Patricia's mouth was full of Tony's cock, her husband's asshole was full of her fist. She sucked his cock, she stabbed his ass, in alternating patterns.
He had her by the head, pulling at the golden curls of hair, his knuckles white with tension.
Kirsten jammed her finger up her twat and crawled closer. The smell of raw sex pulled her like a magnet draws iron shavings.
Patricia sucked as if she meant to eat her man's cock. She made hungry, greedy noises, her cheeks were pulled in, and her face was red. She couldn't be breathing, not if she was putting that much effort into gobbling Tony's cock.
Kirsten found it very entrancing. She couldn't help wondering if Tony would cum before Patricia strangled.
It was another moment or two before Kirsten recalled that the cock Patricia ate so voraciously and sluttishly was the same prick that had just been imbedded in her asshole. Somehow it seemed vaguely unclean, but at the same time, more than vaguely provocative. Kirsten wanted to try it. She'd never eaten a man fresh from her anus and she wondered if his cock would taste of shit. But if it was good enough for Patricia- Kirsten crawled closer, still flogging her pussy as energetically as Patricia's fist worked inside Tony's asshole. She nudged her friend, to signal that she also wished to taste Tony's pecker. Patricia grunted as she sucked and refused to budge.
"Bitch!" Kirsten snapped, and she nudged again. Patricia groaned and so did Tony.
With a flash of motion Patricia jerked her fist out of her husband's ass. His face went pasty white, as if all the blood had suddenly gone elsewhere, and he humped toward Patricia's sucking mouth.
One look at that face and Kirsten knew it was all over. Tony was gushing cum into Patricia's mouth. Like the trick with the knotted handkerchief, she thought. Tug it out of a man's ass at just the right moment and his cum would flow like a river in flood. Sighing, she watched Patricia's mouth, envying her friend as she swallowed that white-hot jism.
But there weren't any swallows. Kirsten slid the finger out of her wet, slick pussy and she lifted her eyebrows. Patricia eased her mouth from Tony's cock, ignoring the additional gushes of male milk that oozed from his red knob.
Tony grabbed his cock to squeeze even more juice from his organ. Patricia puckered her lips, a river of cum, thick and creamy, ran down the shaft, and Kirsten leaned in to lick away that pearly oyster of semen. As her tongue touched Pat's lips, however, Patricia opened her mouth and spilled Tony's jism all over Kirsten's mouth and chin. The sticky stuff coated their lower faces as they kissed and giggled like schoolgirls, and they passed sperm back and forth.
Tony moved to join them, wiping his spermy dick in their hair. Kirsten angled her head toward him, feeling the slick brush of his prick on her neck, and she could smell as well as taste the flavor of Tony's juices.
"I owed you one, bitch," Patricia simpered, licking cum off Kirsten's chin.
"And I think someone owes me something, too. An explanation, perhaps," said a cold voice from the doorway.
Kirsten didn't have to look, not even when Tony's and Patricia's eyes darted to the source of the sound. She turned slowly, swallowing the last bubbles of spit and cum in her mouth, wiping delicately at her chin.
"Hello, darling," she told her husband. "I'd like you to meet Patricia Rushing Sergeant, my oldest and best friend. We were at college together. And this is her husband Tony. They're just back from Mexico. But I didn't expect you until tomorrow. Did you finish all your business in San Francisco?" Smiling, Kirsten waited for her husband's reply. Len stood white-faced in the bedroom doorway. He was a tall, handsome man, trimly built, perfectly dressed, and at his feet was the spilled debris of what had been a bundle of yellow roses. He was also angry. Kirsten could see that at once. She decided that he was not angry enough to strike her. Len had never been the violent type, though these were perhaps special circumstances.
She wasn't surprised by his anger. On the other hand, she hadn't counted on his return from the West Coast, nor had she expected him to learn about some of her extra-curricular activities in precisely this way. It was like something out of a soap opera. The wicked adulteress caught with a bed partner of either gender, naked as Eve and smeared with cum and the musky sweat of sex. Well!
She couldn't lie her way out of it, and she had no intention of being a meek little lamb in search of his forgiveness. He'd married her because she was bright and beautiful and poised. By God, she would brazen her way out of this.
"It really is true, isn't it, darling? The husband really is the last to find out. Why don't we be civilized about this? The bed is certainly big enough for four, and Patricia and Tony would enjoy getting to know you." She patted the mattress. "Come join us, love."
"My God!" Len said.
He was too big, too strong ever to be the weak-sister type, but Kirsten wondered if he weren't about to barf all over the floor.
He didn't vomit, even though his face went ashy-gray. He clutched the doorframe for support and he stared in bewilderment at their impassive faces.
"I don't believe this!" he said. "I came back a day early so I could surprise you-Kirsten, what are you doing to me!"
"Nothing yet," she said sweetly. "Come to bed, and I'll do something very special, though."
She held out a languid hand, inviting him with her eyes.
"I've never seen anything so filthy in my life!" he said at last, spewing the words at her. "You-you're my wife! How can you-"
"Oh, don't be moralistic, Leonard! Coming from you, the words have such a hollow ring. Or have you forgotten about Cathy again? These are my friends. It's only natural for the three of us to share our friendship. In bed, out of bed, wherever. So come to bed. If nothing else, pretend that Patricia is Cathy. That should give you a big throbbing hard-on."
"If you say another word to me-about Ca-about anything, I'll kill you, Kirsten!" Len turned and walked out. In a moment Kirsten heard the front door slam shut.
She sighed. "Well, one day you're up, one day you're down. And speaking of up, I want to be on top this time. Who'd like to be on bottom?"
"Oh, shit," Tony ventured. "I don't know about this now, Kirsten. I mean, in our circle, swinging is a game for all players. He didn't seem very happy about this."
"Fuck him," Kirsten replied. "He'd have found out eventually. I've been spreading myself too thin lately. Word was bound to get back to Len. But there isn't much he can do, except learn to live with it."
"He could divorce you," Patricia suggested. "He could throw your dainty ass into the streets." As she spoke, her hand was irresistibly drawn to the curve of Kirsten's ass, still a bit tender from the fucking it had received.
Kirsten moaned and squirmed her ass against the caress of Patricia's fingers. She smiled.
"I can ruin him if I have to," Kirsten purred, "I know where it's buried and who he buried it in."
"That Cathy you mentioned?" Patricia asked.
"Mmmmm-hmmm," Kirsten sighed, squeezing one of Patricia's tits. "Cathy is someone Len doesn't like to talk about, but he did, once too often. How does this grab you for kinks, babies? We shock him, but Len got his practical sex education from his little sister. God, will somebody do something to me? I can't wait much longer."
The two of them piled upon her. Kirsten relaxed and enjoyed it. She felt as if the world were her private fucking cock, snugly wedged in her precious cunt. Everything would work out. To her advantage, of course.
CHAPTER THREE
Catherine Delaney Weber lived in a small garden apartment in the Village. It was quiet and picturesque and she had learned to endure the night-time noises on the street outside. Last week she'd slept through a shooting in the building across the street.
But now the insistent hammering on her door woke her up at once. She sat up in bed, pulling the sheet to her neck, wondering if some junkie had lost his bearings and come here in search of a connection. It happened once in a while. Perhaps if she ignored the sound it would go away.
But it didn't. The knocking became louder. Someone yelled "I'll call the fuckin' cops!" from the window above.
Cathy nibbled pensively on her lower lip. She tossed aside the sheet, put on a caftan, then went to the door.
"What do you want?" she asked, tight-voiced. "I'll call the police if you don't go away. I have my hand on the phone right now."
"Pleeeeze led me innn," a slurred voice implored.
Cathy's eyes opened wide. "Oh, my God, Len!" she whispered, throwing the door open.
He stumbled toward her, and she caught him with her body. Her brother looked as if he'd been in a subway wreck and he reeked of liquor. His eyes tried to focus on her, but they rolled and wavered and she knew that he was very, very drunk.
"Is Kirsten... " he muttered, trying to stand up straight.
Cathy kicked the door shut and helped him to a chair. It was almost four in the morning.
She placed her drunken brother in the wrong chair. It was too near the table where she kept her scanty supply of liquor. When Cathy returned from the kitchenette with a cup of warmed-over coffee, Len had already poured himself a quadruple helping of vodka neat. He chugged it down and reached for the bottle, but she took it away from him.
"What in the name of God is wrong with you?"
"Kirsten," he repeated dully. "She's wearing those goddamn red stoggings-loogs like a fuckin' whore. Don' understan'... don' understan' anything... "
God, Cathy thought, he's gonna be sick in the morning, if not sooner! What could be wrong with him? He didn't drink much as a rule. Why should red stockings be important? Because they made Kirsten look like a whore? Kirsten always looked like a very expensive call-girl, Cathy thought jealousy, so chic and lovely that she couldn't be giving it away for free.
Oh come off it! Cathy told herself. There's no love lost between the two of us, even if she is my sister-in-law. Right now, Len was the most important thing. Tomorrow maybe he'd tell her why he and Kirsten were on the outs. If it was any of Cathy's business, which she doubted.
Cathy led her life, Len and Kirsten led theirs. New York was a big enough city that they rarely met by accident.
"We'd better get you to bed," she told him, not that he could hear. "Come on, upsy-daisy, and off we go!"
In the bedroom he seemed to get a little better. At least he could stand unaided. She helped him off with his jacket, undid and removed his tie. Len unbuttoned his shirt. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to undress completely, but then she saw his bare, broad shoulders, already browning with a spring tan he'd picked up in the Virgin Islands. He was in beautiful shape, Cathy reminded herself, but he always had been even as a kid. She sighed wistfully.
His well-tailored pants seemed to glide down his strong legs.
Cathy eased him onto the side of the bed and knelt to remove his shoes and socks, then to pull away his fallen trousers. All Len wore now was his look of befuddled drunkenness and a pair of men's shorts. She looked up at him, trying not to see how vividly the cotton clung to her brother's cock and balls, but she couldn't help seeing. And remembering.
She got him under the sheet. "Goodnight, Len," she whispered. She switched off the light as she leaned in to kiss his lips.
"Kirsty," he warbled as her lips touched his, and his hand wrapped around the small of the back. God, he was strong! Cathy could not resist the tugging pull which dragged her onto the bed with him. Or did she want to resist?
"Kirsty," he repeated, kissing her face and neck. Cathy pushed at him, but her hands felt so frail, so weak. He lifted the back of her caftan and put a palm on the seat of her lacy panties. Even through the barrier of the sheet, she could feel his cock beginning to harden where her body touched his.
"No," she said softly, "I'm not Kirsten-I'm Cathy-please let go, Len-" But her voice was so low, so feeble she could barely hear it herself. Her leg moved on the bed, sliding around his.
"Oh, Kirsty," he said, so pitifully it made Cathy's heart ache in sympathy.
How could anyone have put her brother in such a state? She hated that woman!
"What's wrong with us? You and those people-doing those things-don't you love me-nnnhhh!"
Len had drunkenly lifted her caftan, hitching it above her bare breasts. Cathy didn't have to look to know that her nipples were rigid with desire. They rubbed against him through the sheet and he could not help but feel their hot, stiff points.
Oh please, God, she prayed. Not now! Not again! But he could feel her tits, and his hand moved. Cathy sobbed back her shame and eased her body closer, so that he might cup and caress her breasts.
"Of course I love you," she whispered, her hand coming up to pet his cheek and hair in slow, gliding strokes. "Of course I love you, Len. I always have. Don't you remember?"
Tears rushed from her eyes, flowing uncontrollably down her quivering cheeks as she cuddled against him. Under the sheet his prick was thrillingly hard and only the flimsy barrier of cloth separated her cunt from her brother's cock.
Oh, it's too easy! she thought. Too easy to fall into the old trap. No!
Which of them had slid down the sheet and brought their bodies together? She didn't know. Surely Len was too drunk to think of it. She must have been the culprit. All she really knew was that one minute they were separated by the sheet, and the next moment she was lying on his body, rubbing her pantied cunt back and forth on her brother's throbbing erection.
Cathy slid onto her side and Len twisted with her, still kissing and feeling her body. His hands were as loving as ever where they touched her tits and ass, his prick was as large, as exciting where she could feel it pulsating against her skimpy underwear.
You slut! she cursed herself as she slipped a hand between them, fingers tracing the bulge in Len's shorts.
Oh, God! His cock was so hard, so beautifully hard! She squeezed the tip of his prick until he moaned into her mouth and his hand came down to touch hers, to mold it around his cock.
Cathy held him desperately, her eyes stinging with tears of shame. She would hate herself in the morning, but not now. As for Len, she reflected sadly, he wouldn't even remember.
She thrust her hand into his shorts, dragging them down as she grasped his steel-hard cock, and she made his glans rub against the crotchpiece of her panties until the wetness oozed from her slit and made her undies stick to her yearning flesh.
"Kirsty," he mumbled. "Let's make up."
His head dropped to her tits. They were lovely tits, full and firm, capped by dark, plump nipples that jutted out with the hunger that besieged Cathy's flesh. She moaned in gratitude when Len took a nipple into his mouth and sucked it hungrily, and she felt her tit erecting more fully for him, her cunt oozing out more moisture. He took her tits in hand, squeezing them, kneading them.
Couldn't he tell the difference? Cathy wondered. Kirsten had those marvelous little tits, like champagne glasses set on her chest, high and pointed, while Cathy's tits were fuller, rounder, more like ripe pears aching to be plucked. Was he that drunk?
His hand moved down her belly, into the waistband of her panties, and when she felt the electric touch of his fingers on the wet, love-swollen lips of her pussy, Cathy threw all caution to the window. She squeezed his cock with all her might, and she wiggled her ass on the bed so that her brother might slip the panties off her and get to what she wanted, what she needed, what she had been dreaming of for so many years, since their last passing.
"Wet," he slurred, testing her cunt with his middle finger.
Cathy's eyes rolled as she felt him rub her clit. She squeezed her legs together against his hand as if she never meant to let him go. Len put his mouth upon her tit once again, and his finger dipped in and out of his sister's pussy.
It didn't matter then. Cathy knew that it couldn't matter.
"Yes, Len, fuck me," she purred, jiggling his cock in her hot, trembling hand. "Fuck me just as you used to fuck me. Hurt me with your cock!"
Cathy opened her legs wide, pulling him to her with the throbbing handle of his cock.
He moved quickly, bringing his belly against Cathy's, and she felt his cock lying on her stomach, the tip already moist.
Yes! She thought. Yes!
She pulled her ass back, and she guided his cock to her wet cunt. For a thrilling moment she held his glans on the lips of her pussy, and then she moved with hunger, with a fury that surprised her, and his prick slid in!
"Oh, God, forgive me!" she sighed aloud as his cock rammed all the way into her cunt. She closed her legs around him to keep him there.
"Kirsty," he said happily, his eyes shut, his hands sliding low to cup her ass and pull her body closer. He moved while they were close-pressed and his cock jerked inside her cunt.
Cathy sobbed, knowing that it was as perfect as ever, that he could make her feel like a shuddering bowl of jelly with so slight an effort.
She hooked her heels behind him and began to fuck at him. Cathy knew from the heat of her loins that she would climax magnificently. She felt his cock dance inside her cunt, felt her nipples explode with emotion as they tickled by the hairs on Len's chest, and she moved her pussy like a glove on his hard cock.
Their pubic hairs mingled, their bushes sopping from Cathy's cunt-juice. He fucked her swiftly, hungrily, scarcely stopping to breathe as he buried and reburied his meat in her pussy, and she took him just as swiftly, just as hungrily, twitching her ass to swallow his prick deeper, to stimulate her everywhere inside.
She got her hands on his shoulders, and she slammed her cunt against his impaling cock with all the force she could muster. Each time he let her have his prick all the way, Cathy's head snapped back, her mouth opened in a silent cry of gratification. Sweat beaded on her body, and she felt as if she'd just come from the shower to this bed of forbidden love.
Deeper and deeper slid his cock, moving in her snug cunt, and she opened herself to receive him with a building pleasure.
"Love-love you-" she gasped, and he moaned deliriously in reply. He could feel it too, she was positive from the way his cock slammed into her cunt and jerked back out to plunge home again.
Oh, God, she thought in dread-it was better, so much better than she had dreamed it might be. They were no longer curious children exploring the mysteries of life. He was a man, she was a woman. In the darkened bedroom, locked in her brother's loving arms, Cathy could hear bells ringing. She wanted to scream but somehow couldn't. What could she do? How could she resist? This wasn't something she could turn on and off.
"Oh, Goddddddd-Godddddddd-" Her voice cracked as it soared high and the explosion racked her cunt. Cathy moaned, feeling the come bursting inside her, to know that Len was feeling it too as he fucked her. She held him close, her mouth seeking his with a chewing, biting eagerness. She wrapped her hands around his neck and made him accept her kiss, and her cunt bucked against his imbedded cock.
She swayed and twisted, and suddenly it was all over for him, too. He moaned. It was a low, masculine growl of desire accompanying the convulsive lunges of his cock, deep in her sucking pussy. Cathy could feel the cum as it squirted from the tip of Len's cock and barreled its way up her pussy, and she held him with her cunt so she might feel him there forever.
It seemed that he burst and spurted inside her forever. Her snatch ached with the ebbing flow of her passion and still he was fucking her, fucking so furiously that Cathy wanted to wail. And then he was going soft, still wedged inside her cuntal walls, and she felt him slipping from her.
Cathy closed her eyes and she wept silently in the darkness, thankful that he couldn't see the tears of shame and joy on her face.
Their mouths drew apart reluctantly, kisses pecking on the way, and Cathy went onto her back, knees up, toes still quivering in delight. She reached down to touch the slick, dripping mouth of her pussy. She coated her fingers in the mingled juices that oozed from her well-fucked pussy. It was a sticky flow, thick with Len's cum, musky with her own, and she sniffed at the fragrance on her fingers. Impulsively she tasted a drop of the sweetness they had made.
Len was still on his side facing her, one of his hands at rest on her breast. He toyed with the firm flesh, and she purred softly in reply. For a moment she pretended that they were lovers relaxing after a dreamy bout in the sack. But only for a moment.
"Oh, Jesus," Len said suddenly. "You're not Kirsten! You're Cathy! Oh, Jesus!"
"It's all right," Cathy whispered! kissing his cheek. "Go to sleep. Don't think about anything. Just go to sleep." In a moment she heard heavy rhythmic breathing as he fell asleep.
She eased against him, pulling up the sheet to cover them. His body was warm and comfortable to lie beside, but Cathy shivered as if a cold wind were blowing through her bed.
I didn't start it, she told herself. I didn't provoke it. I didn't even ask him to come here tonight. But it's happening all over again.
She dared not sleep or dream.
CHAPTER FOUR
June 1963. Not the best of times and not the worst. In Rome the fat, saintlike Pope was dead. A British cabinet officer had resigned in the wake of disclosures that he was involved with a beautiful whore whose other favorite was a Soviet diplomat; the government seemed ready to topple in a wave of security leaks and crises. A Russian woman was orbiting the earth in a Sputnik. The Supreme Court had ruled that prayer in public schools was unconstitutional.
On the credit side of the ledger, President Kennedy had gotten the country safely through the confrontation with Russian missiles in Cuba. And the opportunistic, shifty-eyed ex-Vice President had been trounced in his race for governor of California last fall. He was going into private law practice in New York; the world had definitely heard the last of Richard Nixon, and Cathy Delaney was glad. Republican as her family was, she only wished she could vote for President Kennedy when he ran for a second term in 1964.
But that was next year. It was summer now, a lovely green summer, and the Adirondacks were a living garden of seasonal colors, a bouquet of fresh, natural scents. She loved it up here, at the family's mountain lodge. How could anyone stand to live in the city during the summers, amidst all that scorching concrete and trapped heat? She let the sun kiss her young body and she went to join her brother Len.
He was busy washing the car, soaping away the road dust they'd picked up on the way to the mountains. She squatted in the cool grass and watched him.
Len was a good-looking guy- All his sister's girlfriends agreed on that, and all of them envied her for being his sister. Even if she rarely got to see him. He was home for the summer from that prep school in Massachusetts, and come fall he'd be off to Dartmouth.
"Do you have to wash the car?" she pestered. "You said you'd give me a lift to the stables so I could pick out a horse."
"This is a five-thousand-dollar car," Len pointed out. "It has to be taken care of."
Cathy, sixteen and romantically-inclined, mused that there were more important things in life than shining expensive cars. Besides-even if Daddy had ordered Len to keep the car clean, he and Mother wouldn't be up till next week. Surely the Lincoln could endure being a little dusty that long.
She watched Len curiously. He had such a lithe, athletic way of moving, though he wasn't built like any muscle-bound jock type. All he had on at the moment was a pair of fairly tight swim trunks, and they clung to the flat sides of his buttocks with a revealing frankness.
Her brother had grown into a great male specimen, Cathy decided. No wonder the girls were all nutty about him. The hair, the soulful brown eyes, the neat body-he had a good personality, too. So why were all the boys she met so creepy? Len didn't have pimples, he wasn't skinny, he didn't have dandruff or bad breath, he didn't step on girls' feet when he danced with them, and he could carry on a conversation.
Trouble was, he still thought of her as a little kid-his baby sister. And she wasn't. She was sixteen, and she was very tall for her age with the makings of a pretty good shape. Maybe she didn't have Audrey Hepburn's looks, and certainly she didn't have Mamie Van Doren's build, but she was only sixteen, for Christ's sake! She wasn't a baby by any means.
Cathy retied the knot which held up her shirttail and left her midriff bare.
A sudden inspiration struck Cathy. She crept toward Len, picking up the hose. In one quick, motion, she'd turned the water pressure to full and stuffed the nozzle into the rear of his trunks.
As the cold water flowed over his ass, he jumped high, yipping in a boyish voice that sounded comically shrill to Cathy. She hopped away from him, kicking over the bucket of soapy water. His face was red and angry as he jerked the hose out of his trunks, almost baring himself in the process, and he turned the full force of the water upon Cathy, drenching her from head to foot before she could flee.
Her hair collapsed in a tangle of sopping curls around her face.
"Goddamn you!" she squealed. "You son of a bitch!" She grabbed the sponge which had spilled with the water from the bucket. "Try this!" she added, hitting Len square in the face with the squishy sponge. Even as the sponge smacked him between the eyes, even as she heard him swear colorfully, even as she saw him bring the spouting hose to bear once more, Cathy was turning, running with all her might.
He followed, chasing her when she darted into the woods. She knew it was only a question of time before he caught her, because he was bigger and stronger and faster. She was laughing hysterically, happier than she'd been in years. It was like being kids again, playing tag in these same woods on other summer vacations.
Cathy was still laughing when her wet feet skidded on some leaves and she went sprawling. Len was too close to stop. He fell upon her, and they rolled through the leaves, both of them laughing, slapping playfully at one another, legs flying.
He pinned her at last, his hands trapping her arms, his legs keeping hers from snapping together. Cathy struggled, writhing and humping up at him. She rocked beneath her brother, trying to bounce him off her body. And then she stopped altogether.
"What's that?" she asked, but as she spoke, she knew, and she wished she hadn't spoken.
She could feel something very hard pushing against her, and it was located in her brother's trunks. Something very hard, and quite thick and long.
She looked at Len's face. He blushed a deep scarlet. He let her go and moved off her body, stretching on his belly in the leaves beside Cathy.
She felt a strange uneasiness then. Of course she knew what it was inside his swim shorts. He'd gotten an erection while lying upon her. Probably her frantic jerking and raunching had helped, too. Sometimes guys got them while dancing or doing exercises or kissing young ladies in parked cars and elsewhere.
At the school's Spring Dance, Cathy had been rubbed up by a pimply guy whose prick was rock-hard inside his pants. He just kept moving closer while they slow-danced, letting her feel what he had, and all through "A Summer Place" he tried to persuade her to go outside so he could smoke a cigarette while she gave him a hand job. She'd told him to go to hell. It had been very embarrassing.
But not half as embarrassing as now, when her brother had gotten into the same awful condition thanks to her. Cathy blushed, too, but one look at Len convinced her that he felt twice as cruddy. She slid closer to him, her hand resting on his bare shoulder.
"It's okay," she said soothingly. "I know how it is with guys. Those things pop up out of a clear blue sky, don't they?"
Len rolled over, and she could see that the swelling was not as prominent. But his trunks were wet, and they clung to his skin with a boldness that reminded her of an anatomy book Sylvia had borrowed from her father's library.
Len's cock and balls parts were outlined by the fabric and even now, with the stiffness almost gone, she could see that his prick wasn't small.
In a clinical, detached fashion, the subject began to interest Cathy. Her school was Catholic and very conservative. Wild girls weren't tolerated, but at sixteen, even conservative Catholic girls from good families couldn't be stopped from talking and speculating. About sex and men and women.
Sylvia knew most of Chapter Two of The Group by heart-the best parts, at least-and she used to recite it at pajama parties. Cathy didn't know anyone who had any real experience, however, except for the kissing and petting aspects. She'd been kissed, her tits had been felt, but that was all. One girl had a lot of stories, but nobody believed for a minute that she'd ever let a boy kiss her bare nipples or that she'd allowed anyone except herself to touch the furry slit between her thighs.
"Does it do that very often?" Cathy asked.
Len looked at her wide-eyed. Obviously he didn't want to discuss it with her. She persisted, hoping to impress him with her sophistication.
"I mean, does it get like that, all hard and pointy, pretty often, just once in a while, or almost never? I really would like to know."
Apparently it got that way when it was talked about, Cathy decided, because the front of her brother's trunks began to quiver tentatively and she could see-she could really see his prick stiffening up again! Right in front of her eyes!
Wow! This would be some story to tell the girls at school. Of course, she'd have to change some of the names and personalities involved. But it was a great story!
Len rolled onto his stomach again, but he groaned as he touched down. "Does it hurt?" she asked.
"You're crazy, Cath," he growled. "What kind of school are they sending you to, anyway? I thought it was a convent or something. You've gotten a rotten mouth lately."
"I don't have a rotten mouth," she protested. "I'm just interested in everything. So what if you've got an erection? Guys get them all the time around me. So if it hurts, you don't have to protect my virgin eyes by laying on your stomach. Roll over."
Slowly, he rolled over, and Cathy could see his cock close up. His prick was sticking out in front, very impressively, the shorts straining to keep his cock and its stiffness concealed.
"Show it to me," she said impulsively. "I really would like to take a look at it." Not until she heard the words spoken did she realize what she was asking. And then it was too late.
Len shook his head in disbelief. He started to say something to her, but Cathy boldly reached out with one hand and put her fingers upon the lump in his trunks.
Len looked at Cathy and she looked at him, their eyes locked.
Cathy's skin tingled from her blush, but she kept her fingers on him, touching the fascination her brother had between his legs. She'd never felt a cock before, and there was something compulsively magnetic about the warm hardness inside his shorts. His cock felt so hot and vibrant in its coating of wet fabric.
"W-What are you trying to prove?" he asked in a choked voice.
She didn't know. Her hand cradled his prick as if she'd been born to hold his cock in her fist, and she could not make herself let him go. Not even when she tried.
"Let me see it."
Len didn't move. She grabbed the waistband of his trunks and pulled them down, far enough to let his cock spring free.
My God, she thought, so that's what one looks like! The pictures in Sylvia's anatomy book had not prepared her for this at all.
Len's cock was a delicate shade of flesh-pink for most of its length (which she estimated at perhaps seven inches), with a deeper lavender shade from the circumcision scar to the knobby tip. Around the base of his cock there was a thick mat of curly, wiry hairs that looked so coarse but felt so soft when she touched them. It was much like her own pubic hair, very dark, very thick, but cuddly as a cashmere sweater.
Beneath Len's cock dangled a tight-looking scrotum. He seemed enormous to Cathy, though she really had nothing to compare him with. All the same, his cock filled her fisting hand when she took him of his prick once again. Even with both her hands on his cock, the big purple tip protruded boldly. The cock-head had a raw, bruised look, but when Cathy slid her finger across it, the feel of him was very slick and warm.
"Stop it, Cath," Len warned, touching her hand.
She didn't stop. Instead, her fists tightened around his prick, and she started to work them up and down his hard length. The outer layer of skin on his prick was loose enough to slide with her hand motions, and beneath that loose outer skin there seemed to be a bone. A real bone, rigid and unyielding. She squeezed his cock curiously.
Len moaned softly. It wasn't exactly a sound of displeasure.
That intrigued her. Her brother's hand still touched hers, but he wasn't slapping or pushing her away. Instead, his fingers had begun to stroke her flesh, to caress her the same way she was petting the length of his erection.
Cathy increased her tempo, moving her fists up and down, and she saw Len's thighs jerk once or twice before his groin began to move up and down in harmony with the pulling-pushing of her hands. He closed his eyes, still stroking her, and his lips twisted into a funny, tight smile.
This was a hand job, Cathy reminded herself. That guy at the Spring Dance had asked her to do this for him when he got all hard and bothered rubbing against her on the dance floor. She'd refused, of course, because he was such a disgusting creep with his acne and smelly breath.
This was different. Very different. It was so fascinating to feel Len's hard power inside her hands, to feel him moving with her as she stroked and fondled, to hear the occasional gasps that escaped his clenched lips.
Brenda Buckley said her little brother was always doing this to himself. Sometimes she would spy on the kid while he was playing in privacy. Jacking-off, Brenda called it. She said her brother's cock got big and red, just the way Len's was now, and that he'd take it in his hand and work his fist up and down, just the way Cathy was doing, and in a little while he'd make a funny, strained face-Just like Len was doing! Cathy looked at her brother and she watched him grimace, as though he were suddenly hurting very much, and she heard him whine.
And then his cock shuddered in her hand. It seemed to fatten and swell, and she looked down quickly. Just in time to see the first gush of his ejaculation pour from the throbbing cock-head. Squirt after squirt followed on the heels of that first, and he bucked his cock in her fists each time he pissed out his cock-cream. Thick, gooey stuff poured from her brother's prick. She kept jacking him, wondering how much of the stuff he had inside him, and his white milky jism drenched her fingers.
"Knock it off," he panted at last, when the cum had dwindled to a dribble.
Cathy pulled her hand away, unable to restrain her smug grin. That had been very interesting, she thought. To make a boy do that with just her fingers.
His cock was red where her hand had gripped it so tightly, and while she watched the stiffness drain out of his cock, his prick shrank into a little worm of flesh. Well, not so awfully little, she conceded. Soft, Len's prick measured four or five inches of dark red meat. She flicked his cock with her fingers. It didn't feel like he had a bone inside his prick now.
It had all been so fast. Did boys really enjoy it? She couldn't see how that was possible. When she rubbed herself up, in a lingering bath or in her bed at night, it always took a long time.
First she'd-tease the tight nipples of her tits, pinching them to stiffness. She'd do a massage number on the curves of her titties, and only when she ached all over with a wicked, sensuous longing, would she let her hands go south to explore the region of her cunt.
And only after another tantalizing interval did she venture to spread the tight lips of her young slit and let a finger inside to masturbate her clitoris. She could go thirty or forty minutes before she felt a wet, throbbing sensation in her belly and her pussy became too tender to be touched. It was sinful, of course, but it made her feel very good, and all the other girls did it too.
"Your thing isn't so big now," she pointed out, tapping his cock-head with the tip of her middle finger. Len put a hand over his exposed cock. But he realized the futility of being modest now. He took his hand away and sat glaring at her.
"You think you're something, don't you, Cathy?" he snapped. "I'll bet you're the hottest little number in the sublet set when nobody's looking, huh? Well, why don't we see what you've got? Huh?" He reached for her, reached for the young tits that nestled inside her still-wet shirt.
"NO!" she yelped, slapping at him.
But it was no use. He got his hands onto her breasts and he held on. He began to squeeze and twist her tender young tits. She moaned and squirmed, slapping at his hands, but she couldn't shake him loose.
Len rose to his knees, shoving her back on the ground. He squatted on top of her, his ass resting on the front of her jeans, and he flipped open the knot of her shirt. She watched him stare at her white bra with ill-concealed bewilderment.
From the bra-cups, his fingers traced the elastic section between her tits, touching the little pink flower sewn onto the fabric, and his eyes were big and slightly frightened.
"Up," she told him firmly, and he rose from her body.
She could see the uncertainty of his face, the twitching of his cock as it began to stiffen, changed its mind, then began to harden again.
Of course! Cathy realized. He didn't know how to unhook her bra! Ten to one he had no more experience that she did!
And right now he was probably wondering if he'd gone too far, if he'd offended his sister. But somehow, to Cathy, it seemed only fair that he get a chance to see her.
Cathy threw her shirt to the ground, reaching up behind herself to unhook her white bra. The strap loosened, the cups sagged forward as the tension relaxed, and she knew that she could still stop. But she didn't stop. Cathy slid down her shoulder straps and the bra flopped away from her titties. Then she saw up very straight, holding her breath to make her tits rise full and proud.
"Well?" she said, hoping he liked her tits. They were still growing, with the promise of turning into ripe young pears of flesh capped by fat brown nipples. Her nipples -were sticking up in anticipation, the way they did when she played with them. Her breathing was rapid, her tits bobbing, and she felt alternately cold and very hot all over.
Len knelt beside her, breathing just as fast. His eyes were fixed upon her bare breasts, but his hands hung impotently at his sides. Cathy picked up one of his limp hands, bringing it to her exposed tits. She made his fingers fit around the swell of her tit, and she pressed to make him hold on.
After that, she didn't have to do anything.
As soon as Len's hand was on her tits, blood began to pump into his cock, throbbing as excitedly as her tits throbbed. His fingers were shaky when they closed upon one nipple, and he squeezed with an uncertainty of pressure.
Cathy gasped sharply when her brother's fingers tightened on her nipple. He looked at her with curious eyes, noting the way her nipple was growing. He cupped her other tit with his other hand.
Cathy moaned as his caresses became rougher, more insistent, as if he meant to find out exactly how much fondling her tits could endure, but she covered his hands with her own and made him continue precisely as he was doing.
What was happening to her? she wondered fearfully. She'd only meant to tease him at first, but the teasing had progressed into something quite different. Even the innocence with which she'd first taken hold of his cock was vanishing, and she found herself thrilling in so many ways as Len kept fondling her titties. She whispered encouragements in a husky voice.
She looked at her brother's crotch. Only a moment ago his cock had been shrunken, lifeless. Now the tip was growing, engorging, regaining that slickness which had been so deceptively soft to touch. She could see his prick shake while it stiffened. Boys got that way when they were excited. Was Len excited now, with his hands all over her breasts?
Impetuously Cathy leaned toward him and she planted her mouth upon his. His tongue vibrated against her lips, and she opened her mouth, letting his tongue poke inside her. It was a fantastic feeling, his tongue was so alive and curious as it probed her mouth. At the same moment her hand dropped to his lap and she was holding his cock once again, squeezing his prick.
She'd kissed boys before, and boys had felt her tits before, but she'd never kissed with her mouth open, no one had ever touched her bare titties, and she had never felt so quivery and trembly all over as she did right now. Her legs shook, and her tight hairy slit itched so terribly she wanted to reach down and scratch it for hours.
Cathy didn't have to do that. As her hand explored Len's prick, his hand slid down her ribcage and tummy, onto the crotchpiece of her jeans.
She moaned into his mouth when his hand clasped her denim-covered cunt. She couldn't keep from dropping back onto the leaf-covered ground once again.
Len moved with her, agile, limber, and he kept his hand on the itch between Cathy's thighs. She brought her knees up, pulled them back. Her fist was shaking and jerking its way up and down the stalk of his cock, jacking his prick from knob to balls in tremulous strokes that caused Len to shudder.
She felt inside his tool the same kind of response that she'd noticed not long before he squirted his milk all over her hand, and she knew that she could get him off that same way right now.
It wasn't as if he were her brother at all. It was the peculiar, intimate kind of touching they'd begun so spontaneously; it was the peculiar kinds of responses that touching had inspired in both of them. Cathy didn't know what she wanted at the moment, but she was certain that she wanted more than the pleasure of watching him gush that sticky white stuff from the end of his cock. She stopped masturbating his prick, whimpered anxiously as she tried to roll away from him.
Len eased off.
When he was no longer pinning her, Cathy got to her knees. She boldly unbuttoned her jeans. She pulled down the zipper enough to show the white of her panties, and then she let her hands fall away.
It was up to Len.
He reached for her quickly, eagerly, completing the job of pulling down Cathy's denims. He got them to her knees, his hands shooting back up to do the same for her panties, and then she lay down so he could pull the things completely off. Her sandals went with the pants and panties, and she lay naked on the leaves.
The sight of her pussy made him gasp.
In pleasure? Somehow, she hoped...
Her pussy was fuzzed with silky down, and the mossy curls were dark, almost black. But not so thick that they obscured the tight pinkness of her slit.
Cathy posed as she stretched, allowing her brother to feast his eyes on her cunt, and she touched herself down there in what she hoped was a sexy, desirable manner. It was the kind of caress she sometimes gave herself when desire bubbled in her veins.
She cupped her plump mons, squeezing until she sighed in delight. Her middle finger parted her tight-lipped gash, her finger rubbing the slick wetness of her vulva. She moved her hand from front to rear and back again, until her wetness increased and she was moaning in excitement.
"That's how I do it," she explained throatily. "Touch myself up, you know? The girls at school call it diddling, but that has such a cheesy sound."
"It doesn't look cheesy," he said with a lot of restraint in his voice.
Cathy took her hand away, offering him the chance to try. Before she could take a second breath, his fingers were combing through her pubic hairs, brushing softly on the lips of her cunt.
He was a little rougher than she normally was with herself, but it was such a loving roughness Cathy didn't mind. He pulled on her cunt curls, as if he couldn't believe they were as soft and silky as they looked. He traced the narrow ravine of her snatch with one finger, poking as deeply as he dared.
Cathy smiled and reached down to help. She parted her cunt-lips for him and his fingertip eased inside, touching the deep carmine of her vulva with a shy curiosity that turned rapidly into pressing boldness.
Her clitoris was already erect, and his fingertips surrounded it. Cathy squealed as he pinched her clit, and her ass thumped on the leafy bed with unfeigned enjoyment.
She had an orgasm, and her head flipped from side to side, hair falling in disorder over her face.
Len moved closer, steadying her body with one hand, and she could feel his hot, hard cock on her thigh. He took his fingers out of her cunt. He kissed her again, this time with a passionate intensity that matched anything she'd ever seen on a movie screen. It was like Romeo kissing Juliet, or Antony and Cleopatra-for the long duration of their kiss, they were no longer the Delaney kids; they were any of history's great lovers, met at last in the fires of their burning love.
Suddenly he was pushing her down on the grass, easing his body onto hers, and she could feel his burning cock on her belly.
"Ohh!" she moaned into his mouth, and he took his lips away.
What were they getting themselves into? Brothers and sisters didn't play games like this, not even for fun!
"Cathy," Len whispered, squeezing one of her tits. "Have you ever heard of fucking?"
She nodded solemnly. "I know what it is," she admitted. "It seems like such a nasty word, though-you see it scrawled on walls-I've never done it."
"I have," he told her. "Once. Would you like me to show you how?"
"Do you want to?" Cathy wondered. "With me?"
"Mmmm-hmmm."
"Isn't it wrong? I mean, you're my brother, Len!"
"Nobody has to know. Mom and Dad won't be up till next week. I won't tell them if you don't, and there's nobody around but the two of us. God, Cath, can't you feel how hard I am? It hurts when I get this way. If I can't do anything about it-" He slid his hand between her legs and his fingers moved back and forth on her cuntal slit until she arched her body against him and tears of need stung her eyes.
"Oh, God," she said weakly. "I think I need something too. I hurt Len-" She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him into her for a kiss which seemed to burn her mouth with feverish desire. Her legs were opening to give him access to her body, and she was dimly aware that she was tying those legs around him in a knot of lust.
There were naughty voices in her brain, inviting her to be very, very wicked.
"If you want to try," she offered, "so do I."
CHAPTER FIVE
He lay between her parted thighs, propped up on one arm so he wouldn't crush her, and he used his other hand to rub his cock-tip against the lips of her cunt.
Cathy sighed each time his hard flesh stroked her, and she could feel the little beads of moisture forming on her cunt-lips. She looked down her body nervously, wondering if they should be doing this, but she was positive that she couldn't stop now, no matter what.
"Have you really done it before?" she challenged him. "Who with?"
"Just a girl," he confessed. "It was at school. She was some townie that Hank McMinns got stoned on wine. He has a car, you know, and he left her on the back seat, out in the football-field parking lot, and told all the guys on the squad to have a go at her. It wasn't anything to brag about. She was drunk and slobbery, and she wouldn't let you kiss her-as if anybody would have wanted to. There were six or seven guys ahead of me, and she was all wet and sloppy and-well, it was kinda sickening. You don't really want to hear about it I guess this is almost my first time too. But Cath-aren't you gonna bleed or something? Aren't you afraid it'll hurt? Everybody says-" Cathy shook her head. She was a virgin in every way that counted, but she had lost her hymen itself several years ago in gym class, doing the splits. So had most of her friends.
"Go ahead," she told him. "I'm ready. God, I know I'm ready!"
His cock angled toward the mouth of her cunt. She hoped this wasn't a mistake.
He didn't seem like her brother, not at all, not after what they'd been doing to each other the last twenty minutes. They'd gone far beyond brother-sister relationships. He couldn't put on the brakes, neither could she. Cathy wasn't even sure she wanted to. It might be wrong, but she was more excited than she had ever been in her life. She widened the gap of her thighs.
"Hurry," she whispered, touching his face.
Len moved forward. He brought the tip of his dick to the part of her pussy and he slid the head of his cock into her. He felt enormous, as big as a doorknob wedged between her cunt-lips, and she knew it was a mistake, that she should tell him to stop, to take that big, awful, hurting thing out of her.
But her pussy was wet and hot, and inside it itched with an aching ferocity. As his cock struggled to gain entrance, she felt that itching increase to an unbearable degree. The strain showed on his tense face, too. He was trying not to hurt her, but he was desperate to bury his prick in his sister's cunt.
She took a deep breath and lifted her ass, bringing her pussy up to meet her brother's cock. In that moment, whatever resistance had been in Cathy disappeared completely. The silky, hair-fringed lips of her moist twat parted like butter, melting to welcome Len's prick-head.
The sudden ease of penetration surprised him as much as it did Cathy, and he rammed fiercely with a lunging power he couldn't control. She felt pain as he drove his cock up her tight pussy-even without a maidenhead in her pussy, she was virginal and not used to the hard, thick presence of a man-sized cock like Len's.
Cathy lifted, sighing, crying out softly, and she had her hands on his cheeks, clutching his flesh.
And then her pussy opened completely for him, and his cock rammed in to the hilt. His belly met hers and he collapsed upon her body, shaking, quivering, as his cock soaked in her juicing cunt.
She gasped, unable to breathe. She was crushed from the outside, stuffed to overflowing. She tried to cry out, but she could manage no more than a muted whimper. Then she realized that it didn't hurt any longer. Quite the contrary. Her wet cunt had fitted around his hard, thick cock like a glove perfectly matched to a hand.
Len heard her moan. He raised his upper body. She smiled up at him. Her face was flushed, her lips damp with dewy sweat, and her eyes were misty. Cathy could feel a moisture in her armpits as well, but even more noticeable was the musky fragrance which seemed to envelop them. It smelled of her cunt-juice, an odor she knew from masturbation, but mixed with it was a different smell, a male smell she understood almost at once, belonging to her brother.
Cathy moved her hips impatiently then, for he was merely lying upon her, his cock stuffed inside her cunt. There was more to fucking than that, even Cathy knew, but Len seemed to have forgotten.
"Come on," she groaned. "Let's do it right!" Len got the message. He pulled back, removing most of his cock from her hole. Cathy sighed, feeling her pussy clutching his cock as he withdrew, and she sighed with a different kind of emotion when Len slid his prick into her again.
"Oh!" she moaned in surprise, feeling his long, gliding insertion.
He did that a time or two more, the slow in-out fuck strokes which, intentionally or not, were precisely what she needed. With a few rehearsals, Cathy found that she was able to anticipate the pattern he would use, that she could meet it with a hip swiveling of her own design that swallowed his cock in constantly varying, exciting ways.
"This-is-fun-" she panted, rocking beneath him, clutching him with her hands and legs.
Above her, Len's face was pure enjoyment, and she knew that he liked it too. Perhaps as much as she did.
He began to fuck faster then, panting and huffing as he fucked her, putting all his energy into fucking his sister. The in-out pistoning of his cock picked up speed and drive. Cathy barely had time to recover from the delicious penetration of one attack before he would withdraw half his cock-length to make another, even deeper, even more delicious, lunge.
She had her legs around him, and she raised them higher, opening up more of her cunt to his jabbing lunges. She felt him thrusting deeper, deeper, deeper, until the head of his cock was bumping her uterus.
The first time that happened, Cathy's eyes bugged out and her tongue shot forth and she thought she'd strangle in pleasure. He must have seen how much she loved it, because he fucked her there, again, three, four, five times in quick deep-fuck succession. The feelings she'd known when Len's fingers caressed her pussy were nothing to what she felt when he tried to fuck her womb. She wanted to scream and sing and dance with his cock inside her, and her legs shot up into the air. Her toes kicked and wiggled above his back as her legs stiffened and jerked, and then she locked her heels around Len's back, pulling him even tighter against her, forcing his cock up her hungry snatch. She scratched and clawed his hard flesh, and she pulled his head close. Cathy wanted to kiss him again, the way they'd kissed a few minutes ago, the way men and women kissed one another.
Her cunt fucked up to meet his fucking cock, their genitals were glued in lust. She licked and kissed her brother's face, her tongue gliding across his mouth, licking all around. Her tongue speared between his lips, fucking his mouth the way he was fucking her pussy.
Cathy felt as if she were drowning in the throes of the most massive orgasm of her young life. She had been accustomed to fingering her cunt-flesh, and she had been delighted and even satisfied with the juicy little comes she had been able to tease from herself. But she knew that she could never again settle for the old games of finger meets pussy, that this moment, this experience, was what she had been preparing herself for, that she had to do it again and again. Fucking was something she could never tire of. With her brother's aid she had discovered the ecstasy of fucking.
She hadn't the time or the will to ask him if he felt the same. She could tell from the increasingly eager jolts of his stabbing prick. Where he'd seemed huge inside her at first, now he felt like a mountain jammed up her cuntal sheath.
She could hear a swishing sound as he rampaged between her wet, juicy cunt-lips, she could feel his tummy meeting hers with every stroke, she could feel his balls in the cleft of her ass when he made full penetration to let her feel the full measure of his cock.
It was beautiful-she was beautiful, he was beautiful-the whole world around her was bathed in the explosion of beauty.
She'd been coming, and the orgasmic waves spread more dramatically with each second. Her body was fluttering and trembling beneath him.
When Len groaned, she felt his cock shake inside her. His stabs became wilder, more frenzied, less controlled.
She heard him whine, felt his cock swell monstrously in her tight cuntal passage-and he exploded.
She could feel the bursting of his cock deep inside her cunt, and she knew that he was filling her guts with the same creamy liquid she'd fisted from his prick earlier. Each time he lunged and jerked with his spurting release, he fucked her more deeply, and Cathy lifted herself from the grass, thrusting against him, accepting his sperm and the lancelike thrusts with which he delivered it, moaning out her joyous delirium.
* * *
Later, when she saw the milky jism leaking from her pussy, when she saw a chastened, sober-faced Len touching the wet shrunken limpness of his cock, Cathy became tense and upset.
"Oh, my God! What did we do, Len?"
He had no answers for her, nothing except his averted eyes which seemed unable to meet hers. Cathy shivered in spite of the June day's heat, and she found herself reliving the moment when she had come to orgasm with the help of her brother's prick.
"Oh, God!" she whispered, her eyes and her mind filled with the beauty and pleasure she had known then. She threw her arms around him, and they huddled together, both of them crying and laughing at the same time, assuring one another that it was only a game that had gotten out of hand, that it could never, would never happen again because it was so wrong and so awful...
Yet Cathy put her hand between his legs and she found his cock growing hard and fierce for her. She squeezed his prick as her lips met his, and she pushed him onto his back. She was sliding a sleek thigh across his loins and bringing her pussy close to hi$ prick.
It was a week before their parents drove up from the city to join them, and in that seven days, Len and Cathy were like hot young animals exploring their newly-awakened needs and desires.
They fucked in the house, in the yard, in the lake, and in the woods. They spent more time naked than clothed. Cathy slept each night in Len's arms and she woke him up in the mornings with her body.
Neither spoke of guilt, of shame, of sin, and each time they fucked it was more pleasurable than the last.
Cathy learned to take him in her mouth, to suck him until his prick spurted that milky gravy which was more enriching, more satisfying than any wine. And she allowed him to use his lips on her pussy as well.
Len knew nothing about oral sex, but Cathy directed him. She told him what felt best as he tried out every possible variation of sucking and mouthing on her responsive pussy, and when he found the key which unlocked her storehouse of whimpers and jerks and cuntal reflexes, she bathed his happy face in the juices of her climax.
When they fucked, they were man and woman, not brother and sister. Here, in the forest where they spent most of their time, they were Adam and Eve, discovering sex in their private Garden of Eden.
"Oh, God, I love you!" Cathy would gasp when his cock or his tongue brought her to a moaning, bursting orgasm, and he'd tell her the same thing when she sucked his prick to a frothing gush of cum.
Cathy loved him, needed him, wanted him, and she knew that he felt the same way about her.
It would never end, she told herself on starry evenings as they fucked their hearts out on a blanket spread in the cool, moist forest. It would never end.
But it did.
"Well!" said their mother as she stepped out of the Cadillac, all trim and chic in her Saks sunsuit. "I'm glad to see that you children haven't murdered one another during the past week."
Len looked at Cathy, and Cathy looked at Len, and they shared the same thought-that they weren't lovers. They were brother and sister.
Cathy's happiness died as she realized it could never be the same again.
"No," she told Len that evening when he tried to lure her into the woods for a session of sex. "We can't. We mustn't." And she knew from the sad look on her brother's face that he understood, understood all too well.
It was good in one way. Mother and Daddy died without knowing what their children had performed during that week of wantonness. Cathy told herself that it could never happen again. Not with Len. He was her brother, no matter how strongly she loved him. She could fuck anyone else, but not Len. It almost worked.
Len went to Dartmouth in the fall, and she saw him infrequently because she was in school in Maryland, and when they met it was during holidays.
He was seeing other girls, she knew, and Cathy dated other boys. Some of them wanted to fuck her, but she didn't allow it. To a special few, the ones who showed some degree of sincerity, she gave handjobs and occasionally a suckoff.
She was damned to her face as a cocktease and snickered about behind her back as a hot number who needed a big prick to wake her up.
In the winter of 1965, when both of them thought the sparks had finally died completely, Len fixed up Cathy as his roommate's date for a winter dance at Dartmouth.
She went up to Hanover, taller, shapelier than before, and she went to the dance with Bruce.
Len and his date, a pretty blonde named Karen, were there too, and Cathy was unaffected as she watched them dance, as she saw Len kiss the blonde girl.
Afterwards there was a party at someone's off campus apartment, everyone drinking Purple Jesus punch or smoking pungent marijuana. Bruce got drunk and repulsively sick, passing out in the bathroom. Karen smoked enough pot to convince herself that she was gloriously high, and she started stripping to the rock and roll music while the other guys and their dates cheered her on.
"I'd really like to go," Cathy told her brother, and he nodded in agreement.
Len escorted her to his car and they drove off, leaving Bruce and Karen to their own devices. He stopped to show her Hanover, and before either of them knew what was happening, Cathy was in his arms, and they were kissing passionately, and he was lifting her long dance gown to get at her sleek thighs and pussy.
They fucked and sucked in the car, cramped as it was, for what seemed like hours. She drank again and again from the fountain of his cock, sucking until hot oozing sperm filled her mouth, and he fucked her to madness three times, proving each time that they'd not lost the old magic, the old sorcery of their coupling.
Cathy moaned and screamed and wept with the fever of her comes, and she scratched his face and ripped her dress. By the time he dropped her off at the hotel in town, she was a mess, and he had to lend her his overcoat so she could get inside.
She went back to Barnard, heartsick, depressed. She didn't see Len again before she left Hanover, and that hurt, because she wanted to throw her arms around him, to kiss him, to fuck him goodbye at the railroad station even if everyone in the goddamned town was watching with horrified eyes.
But he wouldn't come down to see her off, and she understood why. He was sick about it too.
At school, she threw herself into forgetting what had happened. She dated seven boys in a single month and she fucked all of them.
A motel night clerk took to greeting her by name whenever she checked in, and Cathy learned not to blush. In June 1966 she married one of the seven boys, a Hunter student named Stephen Weber, who said he loved her very much. Eleven months later they were divorced, and Cathy went back to school to finish her degree.
This time she went west. She enrolled at Kent State. She learned to smoke marijuana without enthusiasm, she learned to love several different men, and she became involved in radical politics. Richard Nixon, who had seemed so irrevocably dead in 1963, was back, stronger, more dangerous than ever, and the war was a demon that had to be fought. More important, she could forget about her own demons while hunting other dragons to slay.
In May 1970 Cathy took part in the Kent State demonstrations. When the troops began firing, a girl not a foot from Cathy collapsed suddenly, her head a mass of incredibly scarlet blood and exposed brain tissue.
And afterward, no one cared a goddamn that America was butchering its children at home as well as abroad. The war went on, Nixon stayed in office until his crimes slapped the nation in the face, and the campus radical movement died.
Cathy never finished her degree. She returned to New York, smiled when her brother married Kirsten, wept when her parents died. She found an apartment in the Village and a job with a company in the film-distribution business. It was a good job, she got to see a lot of classic movies free, and she enjoyed being in New York.
At various intervals she allowed two men to share the garden apartment in the Village with her. She fucked them in her bed, fed them at her table, and sent them packing in their turns.
Sometimes a month went by without thinking of Len, wondering if he loved Kirsten as much as he'd once loved her, wondering if she could ever find anyone else she loved as much as him.
Until last night she'd thought herself on the road to recovery, after thirteen miserable, unhappy years. Until last night, when it had all come back to life again.
CHAPTER SIX
"Do you feel better this morning?" Cathy asked her brother. "I've brought you some fresh-brewed coffee, and if you feel like eating anything-" Len stirred beneath the sheet, trying to focus his blood-shot eyes. "Oh, Jeez," he said, "I thought about coming over here, but I didn't know I had. Not really. All I can remember-" He groaned, as if he were suddenly remembering something unpleasant. "Cathy-I know I fucked somebody last night. It wasn't-"
"It was," she nodded. "You were very drunk and you kept calling me Kirsten. That was the only thing I hated about it, so don't get upset. It happened-again-and we can't make it unhappen, so why not change the subject? Did you and Kirsten quarrel about something? You were rambling and raving, and you were in a terrible state. I don't think I've ever seen you so falling-down drunk."
"I don't want to talk about it," he replied, lifting the sheet and sliding his feet onto the floor. On the bed, where Cathy had lain after their fucking, the large cum stains were obvious. She saw them, and she knew that Len did, too.
He picked up his pants, but he didn't put them on. Instead he laid them across his lap and turned to face his sister.
"Yes, it's Kirsten," he admitted. "I was on the West Coast for some business, supposed to come home today, but we finished early so I caught the first plane back to Kennedy. I'd been thinking about Kirsty, how much I missed her, how much I loved her. It was to be a surprise. I even bought two dozen yellow roses, her favorites. Well! I'm the one who got surprised. When I got home, she-"
"Another man?" Cathy asked, wanting to spare him the agony of detailing it.
He laughed bitterly. "You're too provincial, Cath! Not only another man-another woman, too. Three of them, naked on our bed, and Kirsten was the centerpiece. God, it was an orgy! For God's sake, Cathy, she invited me to strip down and join them! And all the while she was lying on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of red stockings, with another man's sperm dripping from her lips and chin. I had to leave. If I'd stayed, I'd have killed all three of them. Cathy, I'll have to divorce her."
Cathy wasn't fully listening. She heard enough to get the general outlines of what he was telling her, but the word "orgy" triggered a memory inside her, a memory she didn't really want to call up.
But did three people constitute an orgy? She was thinking in terms of a larger group, a commune of twenty free spirits, with whom she'd lived for a while near Ravenna-Ohio, not Italy. It was during her Kent State days. She remembered some of the fun and games of that long-gone time-gallon jugs of wine laced with LSD, bodies naked and rolling in wild, abandoned sex everywhere inside that rundown farmhouse.
She'd been in a bad way then, recently divorced from Steve, hungry in love with her faraway brother and trying to fight and fuck herself out of it.
What would Len think of her if he could see into her head, see the pictures flashing through her mind? Would he hate her as much as he seemed to hate Kirsten?
"Oh, Len," she told him. "I don't know what to say, what to tell you. Besides-I have problems of my own. You had no right to come here last night, to barge into my life again when I've tried so hard to make it without you. Don't you know what it does to me when I see you?"
"We were just kids," he protested feebly. "You shouldn't think about that any more. It doesn't help anything."
"Please don't tell me what to think about and what not to think about." She dropped onto the bed beside him.
He tried to scoot away, but Cathy caught him by the hand and he froze.
"I don't care about Kirsten," she said. "All I know is that you came to me to have your wounds tended. Doesn't that tell you anything, Len? About us? You know how I feel, how I'll always feel, and still you came to me."
She squeezed his hand firmly. He spoke her name and he lay down beside her.
Cathy blinked at the tears in her eyes and she crushed his mouth in a brutal, hungry kiss. She forced her tongue into his mouth, prodding until he began to suck in reply.
Len pulled her against him more forcefully. She sighed and threw herself into the kiss of love, trying to show him with her lips how she felt inside her heart.
He was stroking her. He reached down her back and slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties. She slid closer to Len so he could get his hand on her ass. Now his tongue was stabbing into her mouth and she was sucking it.
She put her hand on the front of his undershorts, just as she'd done that long-ago day in the Adirondack forests, but this time Cathy knew exactly what she was doing.
She molded her hand to the outline of his prick, squeezed until he blossomed with lust, and then she reached inside to feel his bare, throbbing cock-flesh.
His cock was thick, hard, ready, and she moaned. Cathy leaned toward his hips, jerking down the shorts.
His cock sprang up for her delighted eyes, red with passion, the tip lust-moistened already. She looked hypnotically at the rigid length of his prick, and especially at the little glistening bead of moisture forming in the deep slit of his glans. His hard prick wobbled, and she steadied it with her hot hand.
"You dragged me into bed and fucked me last night," she told him, "because you thought I was Kirsten. Well, this morning it's my turn and I'm going to show you once and for all that I'm Cathy!"
She stood on the bed, bouncing on the springy mattress as if on a trampoline, and she pulled the caftan over her head, throwing it to hell and gone behind her. Swaying as the bed moved beneath her feet, Cathy took off her panties too, and she stood there a moment, shaking down her hair, posing for him.
It was the first time he'd seen her nude in years, and she hoped he liked the differences that had appeared since last time.
Last night he'd fucked her in the darkness, thinking that it was Kirsten instead of Cathy, but now he had to see and know. Cathy was taller now-without shoes she stood a lithe five-nine-her tits were fuller, larger, shaped like ripe pears with large dark nipples covering their ends. Her waist was narrow, curving in from her full bustline, and her hips womanly wide without being too large. Between the soft upper reaches of her sleek thighs nestled a pink, already-damp gash hidden among curls of dark pubic fur.
Cathy wasn't a beautiful woman in the movie-queen sense that Kirsten was, but she could attract a lot of attention without the aid of cosmetics. Her hair was dark and full, still tousled from the tossing of a sleepless night, and it cascaded and tumbled down to her creamy shoulders.
Cathy ran a hand through her dark hair.
"Well?"
Len sat up, offering her his hands. She took them and knelt before him. "Well," he said, and he kissed her again-on the chin, first of all, and then on the mouth, before dropping to her neck and finally to the rigid, aching nipples of her tits. He closed his mouth upon one, and he sucked her tit until Cathy moaned and beat her fists upon his back, and then he switched to the other tit, repeating the oral caress.
She sought the spear of his cock. Her hand closed around his prick, and she jerked enthusiastically as he nursed her brown-nippled tits. She felt him groan in reply around the tit he suckled, and she jacked his prick harder, her hand flying on his meat. She could have easily jerked him off on the spot. But Cathy had other hungers, other longings, and she forced her hand to slow its masturbatory caresses to a fingering, tantalizing kind of stimulation, just enough to remind him how good she could really be. He licked around the ever-stiffening tips of her nipples, pulling them into his mouth as they erected for him. Cathy sighed, feeling his teeth scraping the tender flesh of her breasts. One of Len's hands moved down, tickling her belly as it moved, then the fingers teased the fur of her pussy as they sought the wet lips of her cunt.
"Ohhh!" she wailed as he put his middle finger into the mouth of her pussy and shoved it home.
She bucked away from him, then lunged back to meet him, and she tried to make her twat squeeze out a message of love. Her knees were weak-she couldn't stay propped on them much longer. Still grasping his cock, she flopped onto her side.
Len's mouth popped off her tit, but he managed to keep his finger firmly wedged in her pussy. She twisted her ass round so he could keep on finger-pumping her cunt. As she moved, his hard cock bumped her on the nose and she flicked at it automatically with her tongue. The taste of his cock-juice was hot and sweet, and she knew she had to take him in her mouth. Now!
Cathy opened wide to make room for the thick bulk of his prick. She sucked his cock deeply, warmly, eagerly. Her lips closed around his cock, and she wrapped her tongue around the sensitive throbbing tip of her brother's cock. The male moisture she'd seen on his flesh a little earlier was still there, and it tasted delicious. Her tongue lapped the fluids from his cumslit, returning again and again for more, until his big purple knob swelled enormously in her mouth.
She was positive that he was about to fill her with his seed. Cathy wouldn't have minded that, not for a minute, but it was too soon. She hadn't shown him yet how beautiful it could be. With her.
She eased up her sucking, let much of his cock slide from her mouth. She nursed on the tip of his cock. She was gentle and savage, caressing him as a baby nurses on its mother's nipple, gnawing his cock as a dog chews on a bone.
Len eased onto his back. She lay on her belly with her mouth on his cock. She put one hand on his groin, steadying the base of his prick, the other between his legs. She stroked the cheeks of his ass. He moved easily under her oral and manual loving, and Cathy could not help sharing that ease and delight.
She was too excited by his cock in her mouth to give Len the subtle, sophisticated type of cocksucking he'd probably gotten used to from Kirsten. Everything Kirsten did was so chic and classy-probably she gave head like a five-hundred-dollar call girl who was worth every penny of the money.
Cathy could only be herself. Other men had found pleasure in her mouth, though she had received little satisfaction from the act-when it was performed on other men. She gave Len the best she could give him, and she hoped that it was good enough to please him.
He stroked and twined his fingers in her dark, wavy hair, and the feather-light caresses of fingers on her scalp made Cathy thrill with eager anticipation. No other man had ever touched her the way Len did now, so casually. She knew that no other man could. Ever.
She moved her head up and down on his cock, sucking as she swallowed. She took his prick deeper into her mouth than she had even known she could take a man. But with Len it was all so easy. He made her want to do special things to him, for him.
His cock was dripping with her spit and the cock-juice which was seeping from his prick in greater abundance with each additional minute of her sucking. She scarcely noticed that he was fingering her cunt. He'd spread her dainty pink lips and he was sliding his finger back and forth on her slick, wet vulva, occasionally stabbing into her cunt with a thrust that made her hips twitch joyously. But more often he traced a slow, sensuous ring around the base of her excited clitoris.
Cathy wanted him to pinch her love button, to squeeze it until her pussy leaked all over his hand, but he was too clever to give her too much, too soon.
And the trembling delight with which she awaited that final spasm of ecstasy in her cunt made her suck on Len's cock with an ever-increasing feverishness.
Cathy bobbed and twisted as she ate his prick, using her mouth like a vacuum cleaner on his wet, slick hardness. Sometimes she squeezed tenderly on his balls, and that made him thrust upward, shoving his cock even more deeply into her accepting throat.
She took him all the way, happily, wantonly. Nothing he could do to her was wrong.
"Oh, God, Cath-the way you suck-no! Don't stop! Oh Jesus fucking Christ!"
Len grabbed her by the head and hair, and he tried to pull her mouth even farther down upon his rapidly-lunging cock. The male sex-taste of him was strong now. Cathy's tongue ached with the beauty and sweetness of it all.
She bathed his cock with her tongue as he began to take charge of this blowjob, and she allowed him to have his way because she loved him so much. If he drove that cock into her throat and she choked to death on it, she'd die still loving, still sucking.
His finger was in her twat-hole now, fucking her like a miniature prick. Cathy humped furiously to meet the thrusts of his hand. She could feel her snatch dripping cream into Len's hand. She knew that his cock was about to fill her mouth with a huge load of his male juices.
To make that moment come just a little faster, she opened her mouth and throat as fully as she could and she allowed him to fuck her mouth like a pussy.
She moaned in a muffled tone. She licked and sucked and chewed until she felt his cock surrender and pour gush after gush of hot man-milk into her gulping, swallowing throat.
Cathy drank his cum like a greedy slut, sucking his cock to make it shoot more of the life-giving stuff into her guts. Her throat was thick and oozy with the cum Len shot into her, and she sucked his prick desperately.
At first her only thought was to drain him of every last, loving drop of seed. If she could guzzle down all the cum, there would be none left for that cheating bitch Kirsten. As if that blonde cunt deserved any at all!
Cathy knew that she was supremely jealous. It was the knowledge that with Len in her hip pocket, Kirsten had been so brutal as to abuse his love-a love that Cathy would have died to have for her own.
But the more she twisted her lips on his cock, the less cum spurted from him. She knew that his orgasm was ebbing.
Would his desire for her ebb with it? Cathy didn't want to know. She tightened her mouth on his cock and she clamped her hand savagely on his balls. She jerked and sucked and pawed him until the momentary softening of his dick had been reversed, and his prick was getting all hard and gorgeous once more, still trapped in her hot mouth.
When she could feel his cock thoroughly stiff once more, she let his prick escape from her lips. She threw herself upon him for a hot, tongue-sharing kiss. Her mouth was sticky and musky with the juices of his cum, but he tongued her as if he didn't care. His finger slid from her cunt as she rolled atop him. Her legs were like tentacles on his thighs, sliding up and down, over and back, and she made her nipples dance against the soft dark hairs of his chest.
"Will you fuck me now?" she asked him. "The way we used to do it, when I loved you and you loved me, and there wasn't any Kirsten or anyone else to come between us? For God's sake, Len will you fuck me now!"
Len grabbed her by the shoulders. His hands slid up and down her back, coming to rest on the cheeks of her hot ass. He squeezed her with more passion than he had done, even in those long-ago days when they were brother and sister playing Adam and Eve.
As his fingers dug insistently into the yielding flesh of her ass, she didn't hear him shout: "YES!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Now," she panted, "with me on top. God, Len, I like to be on top of you, with your cock all hard and ready under me. Can you feel how I'm dripping for you now? I'm so wet you could shove a two-by-four into me and it wouldn't hurt a goddamned bit. Please?"
"Oh, yes," he moaned at her. "Oh, God, yes!"
He was reaching between them as she lifted her groin, but Cathy's fingers outpaced his and she was the one who took hold of his cock and pulled its tip to the lips of her juicing slit. She was right about its dripping He'd wetted her pussy with the steady pronging of his finger, but her interlude of sucking him until the cum gushed from his cock had made her more than ready mentally.
It was as if the lips of her snatch were greased with Vaseline. She had only to put him at the entrance of her hole and he was inside her, shoving deep, fucking with all his heart and soul.
Up he stabbed, burying his cock in her sucking cunt, mashing his groin against hers so that their wet pubic hairs twined and twisted into lover's knots.
Cathy's cunt was dripping all over his dick as he rammed again and again, and her clit was so swollen.
She held back for his sake as well as her own. Cathy willed herself to resist, to nurse the explosive orgasm she knew was inside her pussy, to save it for the moment when she could enjoy it, when Len could share her climax.
She fucked him furiously, and beneath her he bucked and fucked in the transports of bliss.
His eyes were closed, his head angled to one side, and he was gasping like a fish tossed upon the shore.
Above him, Cathy was sweating, the salty perspiration stinging her eyes, blinding her to the fuck-crazed beauty of her brother's face. She could still taste the cum he had flooded her mouth with, a tangy, unforgettable flavor on her tongue.
She braced her hands on his chest, pinching his stiff, tight nipples. She arched herself upward. Her head and shoulders lifted, her full, round tits swinging as she rose, and her ass shook from side to side as her cunt swallowed his cock time after time.
Len moved his head as she pulled herself up, and he snapped at her jiggling nipples. His teeth caught one-she winced and cried aloud with the unexpected pain-but as he began to suck, her pain turned into pleasure.
Again Cathy had to freeze, lest she erupt with pleasure too soon, too goddamned soon.
It was that first time, in the woods. He fucked her deeply, deeply enough to tap her womb with the tip of his cock. No other man had ever gotten that far into Cathy, and she knew that no man could ever fuck her in quite the same way.
It wasn't that Len's cock was longer than other men's-it was the insistence, the demanding zeal with which he fucked her.
Cathy wondered if he fucked Kirsten this same way, as if he were trying to get all of his body into her pussy, to fill her cunt with his loving, fucking presence. She hoped he didn't waste such sweetness on his undeserving wife. For Kirsten, a burning stake jammed up her ass would be Christian charity.
No one should know this side of Len, no one but the woman who really loved him-Cathy.
Her tits heaved. Len sucked and bit them as they jerked, alternating from tit to tit in quick succession, so that Cathy was never sure which tit he was sucking at the moment. She only knew that he was nursing her tits while he filled her cunt with his cock. It was more than enough to send her throbbing, screaming, higher, even higher.
"Oh, fuck me now!" she moaned. "Fuck me-throw me over, Len, give it to me like a man-" Cathy let herself turn to putty in his hands as he slid her first onto her side, then onto her back. Not once did he stop fucking her cunt, not once did he take his hard prick out of her rippling cunt.
He fucked his sister with fresh proof of his arousal and desire, and each furious fuck-stroke made Cathy moan and cry. She clawed at his back and shoulders while he fucked proudly between her kicking, up-lifted legs. She grabbed his ass and spurred him on.
He was fucking her as if his life depended on it. Len seemed intent upon making it a fucking to remember forever. He lunged forward, and he shoved his cock in sooo deeply! She wanted to scream and cry, but she was afraid she'd miss the excitement that was yet to come.
Cathy pulled her legs up higher, so that her cunt was even more open to his penetrations, and he fucked her harder and faster. She had to moan when he fed it to her so hard, so fast, so deep that it seemed he was fucking her throat from the bottom up. Her body felt like a great, slick, wet cunt flowering with life as he fucked her again and again.
She rested her heels on his shoulders, and Len provided a strong, steady brace for them. He pressed forward, in and out, until he could fuck no deeper^ Cathy couldn't see the cum-frenzy expression on her brother's face. Any second now he'd be blasting his jism into her cunt once again, and she wanted to meet his orgasm with a blinding explosion of her own.
"Ohhhh!" he moaned suddenly, his face tensing and the muscles of his neck knotting up, standing out boldly. Len threw his head back and he grunted as his cock shuddered and jolted inside her twat, and she could feel the blasts of his jism pouring from his cock.
Cathy wiggled her heels, and she could not, would not, deny herself the pleasure she had been hoarding. It was orgasm time for them, and she met his thrusting cum with bursts and ripples of her cunt that milked his cum into her hungry depths.
For what seemed hours they lunged and fucked at each other, each consumed by his or her own release but vividly aware of the other's as well.
Cathy was screaming and crying like a maniac.
The neighbor upstairs pounded on his floor with a broom handle to stifle the noise in the apartment.
Cathy screamed: "FUCK YOU!" The rapping ceased at once.
It was good for both of them-it was better than good. As the sex tension of their bodies collapsed and their muscles relaxed, Len's cock softened inside her twat. He touched her breasts, and though she was sore all over from the monumental fuck, she covered his hand and forced him to tweak her nipples and knead her quivering titties.
When his cock finally grew so limp that the natural snugness of her cunt pushed him out, she began to leak his cum and hers upon the bed. The strong sex aroma turned her on again.
And it was like that day in the woods. She touched Len, she sucked his cock until it was hard, and at the same time he had his face between her thighs eating the hell out of her hot, wet pussy. And before either of them could stop, they were-rocking and rolling in a wild 69.
"Do you know," she told him later when their horny urges had finally been satiated. "No matter who I was fucking, no matter when or where, I always wanted it to be you, instead. Fucking you in the woods that time was the greatest thing that ever happened to me, because it taught me what love is all about, but it was the worst too, because I found out with someone who was off limits. And it tore me apart inside, Len. My life has been hell most of the time. Once I even filled the tub with warm water and I got into it, and I sat there for hours, wanting to cut my wrists so I could bleed to death and get out of this goddamned hangup once and for all. But I didn't have the courage to make the incision. I'm glad now."
"My God, Cathy." His face was pale with shock. She kissed him, tasting her cunt-juice on his lips.
"I said I'm glad now," she repeated. "Because this was the best time of all. We're not kids any more. We're adults. Both of us have been around, we know now that what we have together is really the best. Is it going to end all over again, the way it did before? Because if it does, Len, I might have the courage to-to do it now."
"I don't know what's going to happen," he said. "But I don't love Kirsten any more. Jesus, if we hadn't been born brother and sister, I'd have married you instead of Kirsten. You'd be my wife and we'd be fucking every hour of the day. Listen-I used to tell myself that what we did those times was just kid stuff, just innocent fooling around that got out of hand. But it wasn't and... it isn't."
"Of course it wasn't... and still isn't." She kissed him hungrily, her hands roving his body, and she was ready to fuck again, but he fended her deftly.
"My God! Is that clock right? Cathy, it's one o'clock! I should be at the office. Shouldn't you, too?"
"I called in and told them I'd be out today," she purred. "So c'mon and fuck me again, big boy. My cunt's hot-for you."
"No, babe, I can't-I have to file some memos about my trip to the coast-oh, I've got a hell of a lot of things to do."
Regretfully he got off the bed and began to hunt his clothes.
Naked, sweat-glazed, Cathy lay on her side and watched him. His eyes took her in and she knew that he was wavering. But no. If he had obligations at the office, then he should fulfill them.
"You'd better take a bath first," she offered, slipping into her caftan so that the alluring curves of her body were no longer on vivid display. "Otherwise all the girls in the typing pool will know what you've been up to. Not to mention the other junior execs. Can't have them talking about my favorite guy, can we?"
Shaved, showered, dressed, he looked very presentable to Cathy's prejudiced eyes. He looked so good, in fact, that she felt a painful burning inside her-the almost irresistible desire to strip off his clothes and tear off another fast, furious fuck on the carpet by the front door. But she resisted, and she watched him go.
In her ears still rang his promise that-he would return at the end of his day, that they'd sit down to a candlelight dinner and talk about what their future might be.
She went into the bedroom and made up the bed, humming as she put on fresh, clean bedclothes. The others had been stained and soaked by the sweat and cum of their bodies and they smelled like a whorehouse. But a very sexy whorehouse, she added with a smug, self-satisfied grin.
Next she took off the caftan so she might dress for the day, or what was left of it. She'd bathe and oil herself and apply some very nice, very special perfume she saved for festive occasions. And when Len came through the door this evening, he'd sweep her up in his arms and carry her straight off to bed for a replay of the morning's games.
The prospect delighted her.
She posed before her mirror, noting how the sexy ideas made her glow in anticipation. She did a set of slow turnarounds as she eyed her naked body in search of imperfections. She couldn't find Cathy was quite satisfied with her figure and her face, though a bit of making up would help a trifle. She stood in profile, studying the way her nipples were tilting up, and she ran her fingers over those perky tits, wishing that someone's mouth was caressing her tits instead of the tips of her fingers.
But it didn't prevent her tits from hardening under her caresses. When she felt them growing fat with the memories and stimulation, she smiled at her reflection in a proud, knowing way.
If she was good enough for Len, Cathy thought, she was as good as any woman on the whole fucking planet.
Cathy strolled toward the bed, still playing with her tits. The more she stroked and fondled her tits, the more provocatively her legs twitched. Her cunt seethed with nagging insistence.
She had always thought the best day of her entire life was that time with Len, in the mountain woods, but now she knew better. This day was the best, for they had rekindled that childhood passion and found that it was still strong, still the most demanding force in their lives.
She lay down upon her clean fresh sheets, stretching like a playful cat.
As she stretched, her legs parted, and she placed one palm upon the hair-tufted mons. Cathy rubbed slowly, grinding her hand into the flesh so that her pussy-lips spread and flared under her caress.
She felt a familiar itch beginning there, an itch which only increased the more she tried to scratch it. She knew that she still wasn't satiated. The needs Len had inspired in her were flowering like daisies in May, too strong to be controlled. She needed to get off at least once more and get her head together. She had to prepare a dinner for them soon, a dinner that would blow his mind and set him panting after the flesh of a girl who could not only fuck but cook like an angel, too.
She parted the delicate pink lips of her cunt and slipped a finger inside.
Cathy began to stroke her pussy internally and externally, slipping a finger in and out of her cunt. She rubbed the hardening nub of her clit, abusing it in her delight, whimpering when she did, and now and then she thrust her long middle finger up the hole of her cunt, where Len's cock had been only an hour ago. She felt wet and squishy in there, as if his cum was still coating the sheath of her pussy. And she played happily amid the clinging wetness of her pussy's walls.
It was delightful to spread her cunt with that poking, prodding finger, but nowhere near so US delightful as the huge male presence of Len's prick. She pretended that he was still fucking her, that her snatch was like a rubber glove around the heated throb of his pulsing cock, that he was filling her cunt from labia to uterus and banging, banging, banging...
She lifted her legs into the air as she fingered her churning pussy. She pretended that she was folding them around Len's back, pulling him into the gap of her thighs. Cathy could almost feel his tongue snake itself between her lips to revel inside her, and this time she wasn't feeding her fantasies with ancient memories. He'd been here, in her bed, in her cunt, such a short time ago that his cum was still sticky and damp on the lips of her pussy.
And better still, she knew that Len was coming back-to her, not Kirsten.
Oh, she thought, frigging herself without letup toward a blinding explosion, I don't even think I deserve this! But I've got him at last and I won't let him go now!
She rubbed the peaking bud of her clitoris until the flesh grew so slippery and slick she couldn't keep her Angers on it. And so she kept flicking those fingers up and down, repeatedly brushing and stimulating her clit until her eyes were foggy and blood throbbed in her temples.
She felt a sudden chill which changed without warning to a flash of heat, and it was everywhere, inside, outside, and Cathy writhed and twisted as it began to consume her. She covered her pussy with a tight, clasping hand, and she squeezed until her cunt-flesh ached.
It was a good orgasm, better than many of the ones she gave herself when loneliness was too great a burden, but it couldn't compare with the fucking her brother gave her cunt. Cathy sighed as she savored that delicious difference.
She'd been lying there, basking in the glow of her come, for a couple of minutes before she was aware of the knocking on the door.
Len back already? Might be. He didn't have a key. But why didn't he call her name?
Her caftan wasn't exactly clean. She'd spilled coffee on it, and there were dried cum stains. Cathy peered through the peephole. "Oh, my God!"
She opened the door and stood trembling as she stared at Kirsten.
"May I come in, dear?"
Cathy nodded and stepped aside as Kirsten walked into the living room and into her life.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kirsten took a seat without being invited. She was impeccably dressed, in a flowery silk shirt that allowed tantalizing glimpses of her pale-skinned cleavage and the sides of her tits. Also a pair of balloony slacks which almost covered her high-heeled platform shoes. A bright scarf was tied around her head and she wore some obviously-expensive gold chains on her neck. They dipped into her cleavage and the ornament, hidden beneath her shirt, swung from tit to tit as she moved.
As always, Kirsten was made up to perfection. The red-gold curls that showed from beneath the edges of her scarf twisted provocatively, almost inviting fingers to test their silkiness.
She had a lazy but studied way of sitting, so that all the finer aspects of her trim body were shown off splendidly.
Her tits thrust out lustfully, displaying firm, rounded contours. The soft rayon of her slacks clung to her fine legs and made them appear longer, shapelier.
Cathy perched on the arm of the sofa, smoothing her wrinkled caftan. Kirsten always made her feel like a frump, for her sister-in-law was always neat and groomed and stunning. Probably last night, too, when Len had caught her fucking with all those people, Kirsten had looked like a fashion magazine's ideal of beauty.
Staring at Kirsten, Cathy tried to imagine the scene Len had walked into. Kirsten, orgying with strangers. Oh, she could picture it. She'd seen Kirsten naked once, at a beach party on Long Island given by some old friends of Cathy's late parents.
Not until she arrived had she even guessed that Len and Kirsten might be there, too, and then it was too late. She endured the weekend though it killed her to see them so happy and loving, and once she'd shared a changing room with Kirsten, both women getting into bikinis for the beach.
Kirsten's bikini was as tiny as the law allowed, and Cathy supposed that her glamorous sister-in-law would be much happier swimming naked in front of everyone. She certainly had the body for it. Long and lean. Hard, high breasts that were perfectly-shaped. Her ass ripe, and full, her legs very long, and she was a natural blonde. The puff of hair covering her cunt matched the red-blonde locks on her head.
Seeing that, knowing that Len had loved and married this confident, beautiful, desirable woman only hurt Cathy more.
And now she could guess, she could fantasize how Kirsten's perfect body must have looked last night when Len saw it naked in a sea of strange flesh.
She tried to picture Kirsten with a pair of red stockings on her lovely legs, romping and sexing with another woman and a man. She found herself hating Kirsten for betraying Len. Cathy had done similar things, during drug-soaked weekends in Ohio, but that was years ago, and she'd been trying to bum him out of her mind.
"Well," Kirsten said brightly, interrupting the silence, "how have you been, darling? I haven't seen you in such a long time. Just the other day I was thinking that the three of us should get together-you, me, and Len-and have dinner. Maybe we could spend a frivolous right on the town." She smiled, but it was a cold smile. There was no warmth or affection.
"Wonderful," Cathy said just as coldly.
Why was Kirsten here? Had she come to see if she knew anything about Len's whereabouts? Was she worried about him now? It was a great time to start worrying about the husband she had betrayed.
Kirsten leaned back, making her breasts rise under the silk shirt. Her nipples showed, and it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. She put her fingertips together and smiled coldly again.
"Cathy, darling, Len came home unexpectedly last night. And we had a little quarrel. He stormed out of the apartment, and he hasn't been home yet. I don't suppose he's been here, by any chance?"
"Yes," Cathy snapped, "he's been here! And he told me all about the quarrel, and why it happened. My God, Kirsten, you are beautiful, goddamn you, but you're a disgusting pig, too! How could you do that to him? How could you turn your home into a goddamned brothel and let him see it?"
Kirsten smiled, a little more warmly. "Defending big brother? That's very sweet of you, Cathy, but Len is big enough to take care of himself. I suppose you talked all about what a wicked bitch I was, and of course you had to comfort him in your own very special way... "
Cathy felt as if she'd been slapped. There was an ugly undertone to Kirsten's words, as if she knew something. But she couldn't. Len would never have told a living soul about what they'd done as children. Oh, maybe Kirsten had sensed that Cathy was very devoted to her brother. Maybe that's all she meant.
"Yes," she said, "and I hope you'll be happy to know that Len is going to divorce you. Think of how much extra time you'll have to play games with your friends. Isn't that delightful?"
"Very delightful. His grounds will be adultery, I take it?"
"Adultery should do the trick. It'll get him freedom from you, Kirsten."
"Excellent. But it isn't going to happen, Cathy, because if he files for divorce, I'll file a countersuit against him. Same grounds, of course, with you as co-respondent. Oh, don't look so outraged, Catherine! You're twenty-nine, and both of you are much too old to go on impersonating sensitive teenagers. I know that Len has been fucking you for years. If the glow on your lovely face is any indication, he probably fucked you again last night to drown his sorrows over me. Mmmmm! Another woman can always tell, Cathy. Always."
"How did you-" Cathy's throat was so tight the words ached as they came out.
"Find out? Why, Len told me. On our honeymoon. He and I drank lots of champagne, and he got very tight and confessional. He shouldn't drink at all, you know. He can't hold it worth a damn. But in the warm Caribbean night, he confided all his past loves to me, in vivid detail. You were the biggest surprise of all, Cathy, and I was certainly shocked when he told me about the nasty things he'd done to you. I used to look at you sometimes and wonder how it could have happened. You don't seem his type at all. I've always thought you should be singing folk songs in some coffeehouse down here in the Village-oh! I've upset you, haven't I, dear?"
Cathy was more than upset. She was sobbing uncontrollably, and her eyes were already swollen with tears she seemed unable to spill.
To think that Kirsten knew, that Len had told her, that she'd always known-she could excuse Len, if he got loose-tongued when he was drunk, but she couldn't forgive Kirsten for knowing about it, for waiting until this moment to tell Cathy that she knew.
Kirsten came over to the couch and she put her hands on Cathy's trembling shoulders.
"Don't take on, dear," she counseled. "It's all going to be for the best."
Before Cathy could stop her, Kirsten had kissed her on the lips. Cathy recoiled in disgust, but Kirsten held her.
"You shouldn't fight," Kirsten whispered silkily, and then she was on the couch too, lying beside Cathy, hands and legs trapping the sobbing girl.
She kissed and bit at the flesh of Cathy's neck, and she thrust a warm hand into the slitted front of the caftan. Her fingers made contact with the ripe mound of a tit, and Kirsten seized the nipple eagerly. Kirsten pulled on Cathy's tit until it stiffened and fattened.
Cathy felt the hem of her caftan being lifted, lifted, lifted-oh God, she was bare as a baby underneath!
Kirsten caressed Cathy's leg, gliding toward the dark-fuzzed mound between her thighs.
Cathy jerked as Kirsten's fingertips touched her cunt, and she tried to push the beautiful blonde woman off her, but she was cramped and scarcely able to move.
"No, you bitch!" she sobbed. "Don't you dare touch me!"
"Be calm," Kirsten whispered. "Have you ever fucked another woman, Cathy? Mmmm? You feel soft as satin. Your tits are so warm and delicious to touch. And your legs-ooohh, how they quiver when I touch them in just the right way! Mmm!
Do you enjoy this, Cathy? Let me slip this finger into your snatch. All right? Don't argue. Kirsten knows what's best. Jesus, Cathy, you're tight as a virgin! Don't you get fucked very often? You have such a delightful, ripe cunt. Yes, you incestuous bitch! Hump me when I stick it in you! God, you're ready for a fucking! And wet!"
Cathy blushed violet and she moaned in agony. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Kirsten's caresses. Her sister-in-law had a sixth sense for loving another woman. The hand that stroked Cathy's tit-it knew what it was doing. So did the other hand, the one that had jerked up the caftan and was assaulting Cathy's bare, hairy cunt.
Kirsten was nibbling Cathy's neck and chin. Cathy had done this a few times in the past, once when she was a senior in high school and a girlfriend had gotten some beer. They'd talked about boys, about sex, and they'd been tight enough to get into a quarrel about which of them knew more about kissing. One kiss led to another, and soon they were masturbating themselves. From that it was a short step to masturbating each other, and Cathy had put her finger into another girl's pussy for the first time ever.
And in Ohio, of course. When some of those commune parties got rolling, and everyone was stoned, nothing sexual had been forbidden.
Cathy had seen boys with boys, girls with girls. She'd loved other women, eating pussy like crazy, getting her own cunt eaten. But not now. All that was another life.
She wasn't lost, helpless Cathy Delaney any more, a girl self-destructing internally because she was so deeply in love with her brother. Now she'd found what she wanted, she'd found Len, and this unexpected assault from Kirsten was a defilement of her body and her mind.
Cathy tried to scream in protest, but it was too late. The jabbing fingers in her cunt brought her crumbling to an orgasm, and she leaked pussy-juice all over Kirsten's hand, moaning, panting, livid with shame.
"Oh, that was sweet," Kirsten purred, getting up from the couch.
Kirsten's hands ran up and down her own frame, and the nipples of her breasts were erect now, punching against the silky fabric with more insistence each time she fondled them.
"I was positive you had it in you, Cathy-love, so don't cry like a little raped virgin. Would you like to repay the favor now? Oh, try! Look what I have for you."
Kirsten undid the front of her slacks and eased them down her thighs.
Cathy looked at Kirsten's cunt. Gone now was the red-blonde fuzz which had once graced that delicately bulging pubic mound. The hair was shaven away, and the red lips of her pussy stood out explicitly in the pink, prime flesh.
Kirsten rubbed her pussy, a long finger scraping back and forth on the slit until moisture seeped out to glisten on her knuckles.
"Isn't it darling?" Kirsten said huskily. "A friend gave me the idea, and I shaved this morning. You really should touch it. Without the hair I can feel everything-oh, hell, Cathy! I'm doing this for your benefit, you know. If Len really enjoys fucking you so much, I thought the least we could do was invite you to party with us and our friends."
"You're sick," Cathy whimpered, rearranging her caftan so that she wasn't starkly exposed. "And Len is going to divorce you no matter what. How could you have done that to him, anyway? I mean, he was crazy about you! And you hurt him very much."
"Not half as much as I can hurt him, Catherine. Remember-I know about you and him. And even if I can't prove it, I'm not too proud to stand up in court and testify. No matter which of us wins, he'll lose. How do you think his business associates will take that little piece of news? Hell be finished."
"But why? Why do you have to destroy Len?
You don't love him, do you? I didn't think you really did. You're unfaithful to him. You come over here and try to get me into your sick games, and still you won't let him go. Why?"
"Why?" Kirsten shrugged. "Len is a dear. He's good in bed, as you know, but more important, he's the right sort of man for me. He's Ivy League, he has an excellent job, and I enjoy the fringe benefits of being his wife. You went to that cow college in Ohio, Cathy. Yes, I'm Radcliffe, but did you know that I attended on scholarship? My father sells insurance in Massillion. I'm in an upward mobile spiral, as my sociology professor would say, and Len is part of that. He gives me security and status. Those are very important things in life, you rich little bitch, but you wouldn't know because you were born with them. You've never had to work your way up. Next year, when you come into your trust fund, I suppose you'll quit your showy little job at Janus and settle down to enjoy the good life.
"Well, that's what I want too. To be prominent and-necessary... I want to be the first person anyone thinks of when preparing a guest list. And if I hang onto Len, I can do it. I can be somebody. On the other hand-I enjoy sex. In every form. Len can't begin to give me all I need, though." She hitched up her pants and buttoned them.
"So you might as well get used to the idea, Cathy. In a few more years perhaps I will no longer need Len. But until I reach that point, he's staying with me. My invitation still holds, though. You're welcome to party with us. Len's going to love it when I turn Patricia loose on him-she's the girl he caught me with last night. That bitch is a nympho, Cathy. She can suck you to jelly without even trying. Soooo, you might tell him exactly what I've told you. He's mine until I'm ready to let him go. And speaking of go, I had better. Please, come join us soon, Cathy. Not immediately, of course. Wait until he's had some time to get used to things. Ill let you know when. God, wouldn't it be a degenerate thing to swap Len back and forth between you and me? I can scarcely wait. Keep your cunt dripping till I call, love. 'Bye."
And she was gone, leaving a horrified Cathy in her wake.
Cathy huddled on the sofa. Could anyone be so brutally cold, so viciously calculating? The only thing in Kirsten's mind was her own welfare. Len was no more than a tool on her road to social success. That he was a man, a man who could love and be hurt too, didn't seem to enter Kirsten's mind at all.
And that vicious creature had actually touched her flesh! Cathy wanted to die in shame for that.
CHAPTER NINE
Cathy bent over, naked, to pick up the bra she'd knocked from her dressing table. She was aware of footsteps behind her. Not until the hand thrust between her buttocks and fingers gripped her dark-furred pussy did she even realize that she had not latched the door when Kirsten left. Anyone could have come in while she was in the bath!
Thank God it was Len.
He leaned over her arched back, rubbing her cunt with one hand, sliding the other beneath her body to cup her breast. His lips nuzzled her neck, her ears, and she writhed against Len, aware of how much she really wanted him.
"Yes," her tight voice whispered, "now!"
He guided her to the bed. Cathy stretched on the mattress, glowing in her nudity, and she touched her love-starved snatch.
"Hurry!" she said, rubbing her cunt with mounting speed. She looked at his pants and saw the distended length of his erection. He wanted her too.
Cathy opened her legs, displaying her cunt. Len smiled to see the pink perfection of her gash. He dropped onto the bed with her, thrusting his face into her pussy. He spread her pussy wider with his fingers and then he began to lap her twat, tonguing away the juices.
Her head swam as he roamed up and down her pussy, and he thrust his tongue deeply into her ready and willing pussy. She cupped her breasts and squeezed them. If only it could be like this forever, for them.
His lips smacked as he dined on her pussy. Cathy had no control over the flow of her wetness, and she was as damp between the legs as if she'd just stepped from her tub. He had one hand beneath her buttocks, his fingers strumming a tune on the springy resilience of her ass, while his other hand held open Cathy's cunt.
"My God," she moaned. "Stop! You're driving me crazy!"
But her words were a lie. She didn't want him to stop, not for a second. His tongue really was driving her crazy, orgasmic volcanoes building inside her tummy. She felt her snatch opening wide. He hadn't used his mouth on her in years, but when his tongue licked her wet hole she remembered, and it was like meeting an old friend after a long separation. But he was better now. He'd been a boy then, eager but still learning. Now he was a man, just as she was a woman, and Cathy had never known another man quite like her brother.
She squeezed harder on her breasts, till the nipples popped up thick and hot between her fingers, and she sighed again and again.
Len's fingers slid through her pubic hair. Voltages of excitement shot through Cathy's cunt with every swiping flick of his tongue, and when he bumped her clit in passing it was as if she were being electrocuted sexually. She humped and flopped on the bed as he increased the fervor of his attack. She moaned.
His head rose and fell above the pit of her loins, and he invaded her pussy time after time, licking, kissing, drinking, loving-until Cathy surrendered to her emotions and let her orgasm vibrate against his deep-pressed mouth.
He rode with her all through the delicious trembling and through the flood of honey nectar that oozed from her sucked pussy. When she had calmed, he kissed the lips of her gash once more, and Cathy reached for him.
"Now you, darling," she said, covering his cunt-sopped face with kisses, her hand shooting down to cradle his erect prick.
Somehow, Cathy got him unzipped. She dragged down his trousers and shorts in one quick desperate move. His dick bounced out to slap her playfully in the face. It was red and hard and in need. She locked a fist around the base of his cock, and she stuffed the rest into her mouth.
She drank him deeply, sucking as he plunged, and his cock slid across her tongue, right to her throat. Cathy was too much in love to gag on such a beautiful prick, and she put all her energy into eating him. Her need was as great as his own. She had to feel his cum in her mouth one more time, to know that she had nursed him to a boiling explosion, and she sucked with that goal in mind.
As she sucked, she used her hand on him. She had the tip of his cock inside the clutch of her lips while her fist shot up and down on his cock-shaft.
Cathy hummed and purred as she sucked, and she felt him sway and tremble.
Occasionally he made tentative lunges upward, as if he meant to drive his prick fully into Cathy's mouth, but for the most part he was restrained and considerate, recognizing her wanton craving for him, allowing her to lead the way toward orgasm.
Cathy's head descended, till all of his prick was wedged in her mouth, and she felt the hairs of his scrotum tickle her lips. When that happened, she closed her mouth upon him tighter and sucked as if her life hung in the balance. It does! she thought sadly. It really does!
All too soon he grasped her head. He held her in place while his cock spat out thick, tasty milk.
Cathy wanted to drink his jism down, but her tears were flowing as thick as Len's cum now, and her lips trembled so terribly she couldn't hold the juice. It began to spill from her mouth and she was only able to swallow a portion.
She raised her head, saw the white coating on his hard cock, the liquid bubbles among the hairs of his groin. She leaned over to clean his cock with her tongue.
There was a magic potency in Len's cum that was like no other man's love fluid. Love? Love had nothing to do with any of the other men who'd played brief roles in her life. Each of them had been only a way to forget, for a moment, the man she really wanted, really loved.
MAKING WAR TO CREATE PEACE IS LIKE FUCKING TO KILL LOVE. That was an old slogan from the Viet Nam days, and it was as shallow and inaccurate as any slogan. She'd even tried her hand at fucking to kill love, and love had always won, hand down.
Right now Cathy could not even remember the faces or voices of any of the other guys who'd shared her bed and body.
She looked at Len. Sometime during her clean-up job he'd gotten rid of his jacket and shirt, and he was busy kicking off his pants. His cock was damp and gleamy and red, and it stuck out like a flagpole. And, when she looked into his eyes, she saw that he was sharing some of her own thoughts and emotions. He eased her onto her side on the bed, his body leaning into hers as they stretched together.
Cathy raised her leg and threw it over his body, so that her pussy was open for the taking. Len took it. He reached for his cock and guided it to her slightly-opened cunt, ramming home almost at once. The strong, sure stroke made her guts rattle, and she opened her mouth in a joyful, unspoken cry as he began to fuck her hard, harder, hardest!
She rocked against him, pulling her body away from his, then shoving toward him once again so that when their organs met it was with the same kind of shattering intensity he'd given her on his first entrance a minute or two ago.
Her breasts ached from desire and Len held them in the palms of his hands. She covered his hands with her own, forcing him to paw and maul her tits, and from time to time she gave a shrill, keening cry that signaled her complete and utter acceptance of his love.
Upstairs, that goddamned neighbor was going through the broomhandle-tapping-on-the-floor routine, but Cathy didn't have the will to tell him where he could stuff his fucking broom. She was too excited, too much in love, too eager to delay what was coming in such a short, pitiless time. The bed rocked beneath them. Her hands were all over him, and his on her. They were like children reveling in the discovery of a new toy-all frank, open, sharing-and they moved with a free, fresh natural quality, as if they had been doing this act for all their lives, as if they had been born for no other purpose.
It was true, Cathy thought, swallowing her brother's cock with her hungry pussy. It was really true. That long-ago time couldn't have been an accident-it must have been ordained from the very moment of her conception.
Len's life had gotten into a wrong pattern somewhere along the line, but hers had never strayed from that directed path. And now they had found each other, finally, fully. So why was her heart breaking now? Why did she feel so goddamned sick?
Up, in, harder and harder swished the powerful strokes of Len's cock. Cathy gasped, clawing at his body with her sweat-soaked hands, and she felt him driving, driving-pushing her past the summit. If only he'd hit her that way a few more times-just a few more- Len shoved and Cathy yielded. She soared high and her cunt was a glove of orgasmic, raw flesh around his cock. In another moment or two she felt his prick stiffen, stiffening inside her cunt.
His cock jerked and shuddered and she could feel the massive bursts of cum pouring from his prick into her pussy. She writhed, clutched him, then lay still in his arms, shivering with the dreamy aftermath of her climax.
He went soft in her, slowly, naturally. Her cunt squeezed his cock, and the shrinking member wiggled like a tiny snake. They lay kissing and fondling, allowing their bodies to touch in the most sensitive regions, but he didn't betray any immediate desire to fuck her again and Cathy didn't try to stir one up.
"God, Cath, you can't know how great it is with you. For me, I mean. When I met Kirsten I thought she was the sexiest, foxiest woman alive, and-well, I guess she may be. But as a person there isn't the slightest comparison. She has strange ideas now and then-she wants me to put it in her ass sometimes, and she wants me to, well, to play with myself while she watches. And there was last night, of course. Cath, I couldn't live with her another minute after I saw her with those other people. I wanted to die when I saw what they were doing! It made me feel dirty, to know that I'd loved her but that she could do those things too. But it's so much different with you. I think that making love with you is what I've needed for a long time."
Cathy wanted to die. She rolled away from him and spoke without looking at her brother. "I'm sorry it took you so long to find out," she said, "because it's all over, Len. For the last time, it's over. I mean it. You have to go back to Kirsten."
"What?!"
He crawled to her, but she jumped off the bed.
"I said, you have to go home. To Kirsten. She was here today, while you were away, and she made it very clear. If you try to divorce her, she's going to bring out the whole sordid story of you and me. God, to think that you could tell her about it!" She shook her head sadly. "She can ruin you, Len. Even if she can't prove it, the story will get around and we'll never escape it, you and I. So I'm afraid the only thing you can do is go back and try to live with her again, for as long as she needs you."
"Do you know what you're saying?"
"I know. So will you please get dressed and go home? And don't try coming back if it gets too hard to bear, Len, because I won't be here. I-I think I'm going away. Far away. This is tearing me apart! She wants you for your money and your status, and I want you because you're you, and she's the one who's winning. Winning everything! Whoever said life was fair?"
"Cathy, I don't want-"
"Goddamn it!" she yelled, spinning around. "Don't you see that you don't have any fucking choice in this? She has you by the balls! If she opens her mouth about us, how long do you think you'll keep your job? You'll be the laughingstock of all your friends and associates. And she'll do it, Len, she'll do it! Now go, before I get all weak and female and beg you to stay so we can ruin both our lives together!"
She locked herself up in the bathroom while he dressed and took his exit. It wasn't fair, but what could she do? At least she'd known, finally, that he loved her too, that he loved her more than Kirsten. For all the good it did.
Cathy opened her medicine cabinet and she looked at the little dispenser of razor blades. Her wrists ached from the thought of that. She looked to the next shelf and there they were, almost forgotten. Two years ago her doctor had prescribed Seconals for her, when she was in agony over the breakup of her last affair.
She took out the bottle and hefted it in hand. Almost full. Maybe.
Maybe? Why not? What did she have left?
CHAPTER TEN
"I'm so glad you're staying over for a few extra days," Kirsten sighed grandly. "It's such a terrible burden to bear-being deserted by my husband."
Smiling, Kirsten patted Patricia and Tony where it did the most good-in their crotches.
The three of them were lounging on the big couch, Kirsten flanked by her friends. At the moment, Patricia's agile hands had succeeded in pulling down part of Kirsten's top, so that one pink-nippled breast was available for licking and sucking. Patricia had never been one to ignore opportunity, and her mouth was proving itself to be as agile as her hands.
Kirsten was giving her mouth to an avid Tony, whose tongue was delving around inside her mouth while Kirsten gave it such marvelous head he grew anxious for the real thing.
He didn't have to say he was anxious. The sudden, vivid stiffening of his cock said more than words for his arousal. Kirsten felt the bulge in his pants. She remembered how sweetly his cum had lingered in her mouth after last night's reunion was finished. Perhaps it was that memory-perhaps it was the steady poking of his tongue. Kirsten's mouth grew wet with saliva and she rubbed his cock more enthusiastically.
He was a marvelously-built dude, she reflected. His cock was at least an inch longer than Len's, perhaps two, though not as thick. And it was a well-trained prick, knowledgeable in the intricacies of fucking a first-class cunt such as her own.
Patricia sucked harder on her nipple, and Kirsten repaid the kindness by rummaging beneath the hem of Patricia's skirt.
No panties. Patricia never bothered with underthings. When Kirsten's finger brushed across the bald pubic mound, she gave loving stimulation to the reddish pussy lips. She put her finger on them, felt them surrender oozingly, and she prodded her way in and up.
Patricia squirmed, still sucking, and Kirsten decided it was just about time to move this party into the bedroom again.
Too bad. She'd been counting on Len to show up by now. Surely that cow-eyed slut of a sister of his had given him the word. Oh, of course she had! Cathy was certainly intelligent enough to realize that her fools paradise was doomed. For God's sake, even in New York a brother and sister couldn't fuck with impunity. Not even a brother and sister in Len and Cathy's social circle. No, Len had too much at stake. He'd be here eventually. She'd bank on it.
And then, almost before Kirsten knew it, Len was coming through the hall, into the wide living room. The dear boy had used his key. She broke off the kiss with Tony and looked up to smile a greeting.
"Darling!" she said enthusiastically. "I'm so glad you finally saw the light and came back to me. You remember my friends, don't you? Tony Sergeant and his wife, my dearest, best friend ever, Patricia? Stop that, you naughty bitch, and say hi to my husband Len!"
He didn't look at all happy, but he parked himself in a chair across the room and stared at the three of them with a cold glow in his eyes. "Kirsten, the only reason I'm here is-"
"Is because I told sweet Cathy what it would mean if you didn't come back," she filled in for him. "And I meant every word I told her, although she probably relayed it to you with more horrified embroidery than was necessary." She smiled, leaning back so that her bare left breast was exposed. The nipple was very stiff and covered with Patricia's drool. Kirsten reached down to fondle her tit. "Mmm, that feels good," she told him, looking up. "It feels just as good when you do it for me, though. Wouldn't you like to kiss and make up now?"
"Kiss my ass," he growled. "Do you know how disgusting you are to me at this moment?"
"Disgusting? That's a strange word coming from a man who spent last night and probably most of today fucking his little sister, darling. Oh, let's forget the recriminations! We could sling insults back and forth for hours and get nowhere in the process. Now! As you may have guessed, Leonard, I've been what they used to call 'unfaithful' to you occasionally during the two years we've been married. Perhaps two or three times a week, depending on the season. Sometimes less, sometimes more. See? And you never missed a slice of what I gave out elsewhere, did you?"
"Do you remember that porno movie I took you to see? 'The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann'? It really was very good, even if you kept saying you didn't like X-rated movies. Well, what I'm proposing, Len, is that you and I work up an arrangement like that for our own lives. Complete freedom for each of us. Tony and Patricia can testify that it doesn't damage your kidneys or rot your teeth. It adds spice. Really, dear, you don't think you taught me everything I know, do you? And we had a perfect sex life as long as you were in blissful ignorance. Why can't it go on that way?"
He didn't say anything. Kirsten looked at Tony, and she kissed him very suddenly, very passionately,, while her husband watched. She turned to Patricia and repeated the process. Patricia's hand flew at once to Kirsten's left tit, fondling it shamelessly.
Finally Kirsten looked at Len once more. His face Was red, but she could see surrender implicit in his eyes. He hated her, she was quite aware, but she had him under her thumb.
Kirsten stood up. "Then, why don't we take my darling husband into the bedroom and give him his first lesson in swinging, children?"
Tony and Patricia shucked off their clothes. They were happy and playful, both of them trying to feel up Kirsten, who ignored them to concentrate her attention on Len.
She went to her husband and stripped away his jacket. He didn't resist, nor did he resist when she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed her way down his chest and stomach. She stopped only when she knelt to undo his pants. Kirsten pulled the trousers down his legs, making him lift his feet to step out of them. She took off his socks and shoes. Then she kissed the front of his shorts.
"God," she said, looking up at his face, "you smell of cum! How many times did you fuck Cathy, anyway?"
Len grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He shook her angrily. "If you ever mention her name again, I'll-" She kissed his angry mouth, her lips pressing, insistent. "No, you won't," she said. "You came back to me, didn't you? I think that says something about your nerve, darling."
He didn't answer. Tony and Patricia were already on the bed, mouthing one another's genitals. Patricia had what happened to be the deepest throat in captivity. She had all of Tony's nine-inch cock in her mouth and it looked as if she were trying to suck in his balls as well.
But Patricia always was a showoff, Kirsten reminded herself. It went with the good looks, the money, the hungry appetites that could be filled because of the looks and the money. As for herself, Kirsten had always had everything except the money, and she envied all those who combined the three necessary attributes.
"Undress me now," she told Len, "and well fuck. I still fuck as well as ever, love, and I hope you haven't forgotten how well."
"I haven't forgotten," he said tightly.
She took his hands and put them on the strap of her bra. Len pulled, and her other breast appeared. The nipple was hard, and Kirsten fondled it appreciatively. She made him slide the long, slinky gown down her body, till it fell in a pile at her feet and she stood naked before him. All of her was his for the taking, but he had to take it here, now, with Tony and Patricia watching. It would be a valuable lesson.
She pulled him to the bed, using his soft cock for a handle. But it didn't stay soft-it couldn't stay soft-for long, not the way her fingers were teasing and stroking and pulling it.
Len swelled up automatically, and she rubbed his cock to keep him hard. She removed the unbuttoned shirt, his only remaining garment, and then she slid onto the bed, taking care to avoid Tony's fanned-out legs. When she was in position for him, her thighs spread, her cunt slightly elevated for his convenience, Kirsten yanked on his cock so that he had no choice but to lunge in her direction.
Len slammed onto the bed atop her, and she wrapped her legs around him, steering his cock into her pussy. He fucked his way in, and she twisted herself so that the snug pull of her snatch kept him there.
"See?" she whispered, licking her lips. "It's as good as it ever was, Len. So do what I know you can do."
She reached behind, catching the cheeks of his ass, and she dug in until he began to move. It was awkward at first, as if he didn't want to do it, but the invitation of her cunt was difficult for any man to resist. She bucked and jerked beneath him, supplying all the motion and most of the rhythm, and finally Len surrendered and started fucking.
It was a hard, cold, brutal fuck. He fucked her fiercely, not caring if he hurt her, but Kirsten doubted if any cock could ever harm her pussy. Indeed, he was showing more spirit than usual, and she was in the mood for a real fucking. It would be a demonstration, too, that Patricia wasn't the only girl from their graduating class who'd found a true man.
"Oh, yes!" Kirsten squealed, thumping her heels on his ass. "Can't you do it a little harder?"
He fucked so furiously that she felt herself nearing an unplanned orgasm. So much the better. If he could see how easily, how hotly she turned on in this particular setting, perhaps he wouldn't be such a baby about repeating it.
His pubic fuzz was a constant tickle on Kirsten's newly shaven pussy, and the stimulation was so exciting.
Len rode her fast and high, stabbing his cock far into her pussy, jiggling it there when he was fully buried. He acted as if he were trying to prove something, and he didn't fool around much with the gentleness he'd used on her in the past. Well, Kirsten had gotten tired of his gentleness, too. She wasn't a fucking China doll, even if she strongly resembled one with her chiseled face and lithe body. Sometimes she preferred being treated like a twenty-dollar hooker.
When her orgasm came, she let it roll, the waves of excitement rippling along Len's impaling dick. He stopped for a moment, as if in surprise, and she had to pinch his ass forcefully to spur him on. He started fucking her viciously. She squeezed his body with her legs, squeezed his cock with her cunt, and she tried to kiss him on the mouth. But he avoided her lips, and so she had to settle for nibbling on his chin. It worked just as well.
He grimaced like a man in pain, and then he jammed his cock all the way up Kirsten's pussy and his cock shook as it unloaded. He was flooding her with cum. Perhaps he was beginning to turn on. Maybe she'd get him to snort a dab of snow later. Len wasn't interested in drugs, but cocaine was more than a drug-it was a way of life. She'd certainly need a good hit before the night got much older.
She clasped at him with her pussy, keeping his cock hard inside her cunt even though he'd finished squirting. The sticky juice was already beginning to leak from her pussy, around the embedded barrel of his cock, and big droplets flowed into the crack of her ass. A good cum for him, she decided, and a moderate one for her. It would get better.
Still locked, Kirsten signaled for him to peek at Tony and Patricia. Their tanned bodies were writhing on the bed as they went wolfish on one another's organs.
Tony slurped in his wife's cunt while she deep-throated his cock. They broke apart, switching rapidly into another position-Patricia on hands and knees, her slim brown ass sticking up, Tony behind her, stroking his wet cock while he eased it between her legs. In one quick push he was in her, fucking madly, and Patricia wailed and began to fuck him just as madly. She moaned and cried and ripped the bedsheets with her long nails while Tony fucked in her, his hands braced on the shaking cheeks of her ass.
She came first, a whining orgasm that built rapidly into a second and a third, and still Tony drove his cock in and out. His face was very tense now, a sure sign that he was ready to blow, and he did, piling into her like a bulldozer.
Cum dripped from her slit in long dangling trails as he fired his salvoes, and each time he jerked and lunged, Patricia screamed.
Not bad, Kirsten thought, but I think they're showing off for us as much as we're showing off for them.
Tony swung back, jerking his cock out of Patricia's pussy suddenly. His prick was white with his seed, dripping at the tip. Patricia slumped onto her side, moaning, and Tony crawled toward her.
She saw him-her eyes opening wide-and Tony shoved his cummy dick into her mouth, holding her head as he finished unloading himself down her throat. She hummed and groaned as she sucked him, but she didn't let up for a moment, and when his cock finally left her mouth it was limp and red.
"End of round one?" she asked Kirsten, wiping the stray bubbles away with her tongue.
Kirsten went to the nightstand where she'd left her snuffbox stash. She got her spoon too, and she offered cocaine.
Patricia snorted happily, as did Tony, but Len refused the drug with a frown and a shake of the head. Kirsten shrugged. She took a full-sized sniff of the white powder, sighing as it took effect.
"Oh, yeah!" she said in a sniffy voice, as if she were just catching a mild cold, "now I'm ready for round two!"
Len eased off to one side of the bed as Kirsten and Patricia moved into an embrace and a kiss and a mutual fondling of genitals. For the first time he noticed that both women were hairless down there. Probably Patricia's example. Kirsten hadn't been bald down below the last time he'd seen her.
Tony watched too, but not for long. He got up and went across the room, his slender cock bouncing limply as he trotted. He rummaged through one of Kirsten's dresser drawers. That was hard for Len to take. He'd never invaded his wife's privacy by fumbling through her underwear and her privacy. But Tony was obviously well acquainted with most of Kirsten's private possessions, and it was too late to be jealous. Len wondered if he even cared any more.
When Tony came back, he had ajar of Vaseline in one hand a phallic-shaped vibrator in the other.
Len remembered the vibrator. Kirsten brought it home shortly after their marriage-it was something they'd laughed about, trying to imagine what perverted people might use it for. Sometimes in spirited love play she'd tickle his cock and balls with it, but they hadn't used it in over a year and it was a surprise to see that she still had the thing.
His mind began to fashion images of just what Kirsten might have been doing with the vibrator in the meantime, and those images weren't dispelled when Tony uncapped the Vaseline and began to rub the slick jelly on Kirsten's asshole.
"What the hell are you doing?" Len snapped.
Tony grinned. "Watch and see."
He greased Kirsten, then the end of the vibrator, and he began to rub the pointy tip of it in her puckered asshole. Kirsten was very busy kissing Patricia, but she stopped suddenly and let out a long sigh of delight.
Len moved toward the others. "Look here," he said, "if you don't get out of here, both of you, m- There was a distracting blur of motion at his side, and before he knew it someone had him by the cock. He looked down. It was Patricia, and she was licking his balls.
"My God," said Len.
"Don't fight," Kirsten told him. "Just enjoy it. Patricia has the second-best mouth in the west."
"Second-best?" Patricia shrilled.
"I don't like this at all," Len said. "For God's sake, Kirsten, let's stop while we can. Send them away. I don't want to have sex with another woman while I'm watching another man do kinky things to you. I'm not that kind of guy. I don't even want to share a bed with you and another couple if we stick to our own partners."
"You're desperately antiquated," Kirsten said impassively. "And I've been doing this for too long to stop now, Len. I'm afraid that you're just going to have to accept it. So settle back like a dear and let Patricia eat you. She's really very good. And watch us. Maybe Tony can give you a few pointers on how to keep a marriage from going stale too soon."
Patricia had his cock in her mouth and she was trying to suck it hard. Len looked down with disgust and shame. "This is fucked up," he muttered. "We're like a bunch of animals in heat."
"Of course we're animals," Kirsten cut in. "Didn't you study biology at Dartmouth? Man is the highest animal but an animal nevertheless. Now don't embarrass me any more. Let Patricia do a number on you, please?"
And she was trying to do just that, her mouth gulping and chomping on Len's cock. She cupped his balls, squeezing them in hope that would make his cock erect, but none of it seemed to work. Her naked body sprawled on the bed, arching outward from his groin, but he scarcely looked at her. Instead, his eyes were on Kirsten and Tony.
Tony pushed the vibrator in until it was imbedded in Kirsten's ass. She wailed as it sank in, and she lurched forward on the bed, shaking her ass as she took the plastic tool home. Len had never seen Kirsten so ecstatic before. She looked like a completely different woman.
"Flip it on!" she squealed happily.
Len was sick with disgust. Not even the admittedly expert sucking Patricia gave his cock could keep his stomach from turning. This wasn't Kirsten-not the Kirsten he had married. She had changed. Or maybe he was just finding out who she was.
She looked at him, those silver-blue eyes sparkling with lust. "You're not cooperating," she accused. "Oh, Patricia, if nothing else will work, try to make yourself look like a cow-eyed, sensitive teenager. That will remind him of his sister Cathy, and maybe it'll get him hard for you."
Len made an angry face and he clenched his fists. A surge of energy coursed through his body, and even his cock seemed to stir with sudden power. Patricia whimpered around it and she started sucking harder, confident that she was on the road at last.
"Great!" Kirsten exulted. "I have a surprise for you, love. Sometime very soon we'll invite Cathy to come party with us. Maybe just the three of us at first, so we can all get to know one another, but we'll get the sweet little thing into circulation just as soon as we can. She's hung up on you, of course, but a bit of experience ought to take care of that.
Why don't we invite her over right now? Wouldn't that be fun, crew? We could all sit around and watch while Leonard fucks his little sister for us, and then we can take turns. She's darling, with a sweet young face, very sensitive eyes, and breasts like pears with the most enchanting dark, candy-kiss nipples-"
"STOP IT!!" Len screamed, jerking his cock out of Patricia's mouth.
Patricia reached for him, but he pushed her and she sprawled back across the bed. Tony was plying the vibrator in Kirsten's asshole and he stopped short.
Violence hovered in the air of the bedroom. Len moved. He picked up his clothes and began to dress.
"What are you doing?" Kirsten asked frostily. "I'm leaving," he said. "And this time I won't be back."
"You're going to be sorry," Kirsten replied. "I can make you regret this very much."
As he got into his pants, he said, "The only thing I regret is being stupid enough to come back to you at all. Kirsten, if you want money, you can have money. You can do whatever you please. The lawyers can straighten out the details."
And he was gone. Patricia shrugged. "It looks like he doesn't want to play with us," she said.
"Fuck him," replied Kirsten. "He's put his ass in the skillet and I'm going to turn on the heat. Will you hand me the spoon, you bitch? Mmmm-now kiss me while I'm getting there-oh, Tony, will you flip on that goddamned vibrator? The night is very, very young and I'm in the mood to party."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At ten o'clock, hours after he'd left, Cathy was sitting on the couch, staring at the water glass and the dozen Seconals on her coffee table.
First, she'd straightened up the place. Clean sheets on the bed, fresh towels in the bathroom, dishes put away. She'd put on her prettiest nightgown, a shimmer of ice-blue nylon with lace trimmings, and over that a fuzzy, fluffy robe she'd only worn once or twice. It seemed important to die with everything in good order. She didn't want the police to say later: "She was a real slob, wasn't she?"
That would have been unbearable, after everything else she'd gone through.
She was weighing the first tablet in her palm for at least the fifteenth time when she heard a frantic knocking on her door. This was too much! She didn't want to see anyone now.
"CATHY!" she heard him call, and her heart almost stopped.
"Len!"
She opened the door for him. The Seconal was in her palm and she squeezed it in despair-.
"I can't stay there," he told her. "It was like a mating of beasts. No love, no real passion-I don't want that, Cathy, and if Kirsten does, then I don't want her."
And she was in his arms, sobbing, hugging, caressing him with her body. The Seconal dropped to the floor and she ground it with the toe of her slipper till it crumbled into white powdery chunks.
He kissed her, and once again, it wasn't a brother-and-sister kiss that they shared. Cathy knew as their lips met that he was hers once more-perhaps forever.
Arm in arm, he led her toward the bedroom. On the way he noticed the row of pills on the coffee table, and he stopped short. "Aren't those-Cathy! You weren't-"
"I didn't want to live without you," she said simply.
She leaned her head against his shoulder as he undressed her and ran his hands up and down her throbbing body. Her nipples hardened at the merest touch of his fingers, and there was a dewy moisture on the lips of her cunt.
Len knelt before her, kissing every part of her body, saving his sweetest, tenderest kisses for her fragrant pussy. He filled his mouth with her cunt, and Cathy lifted onto tiptoes, rising and falling rhythmically as he licked her. She touched his head, his shoulders, the tight-stretched muscles across his upper back, and she wished that tomorrow wouldn't come, that this night could last forever and give them both the happiness that had finally arrived.
Tomorrow was going to be another day of doubt and worry. Kirsten might make good her threats. She might ruin Len's career and reputation.
But what was a career, a reputation, in the long run, when you had love? Wasn't that what counted?
"Now," Cathy sighed, "now, please!"
They moved to the bed. She sat on the edge and she stripped Len. There was a cum smell around his cock-she knew he must have fucked someone very recently, but she didn't mind. Jealousy was the last thing in her thoughts now. He'd come back to her. He'd been given a choice, and she was the one he'd chosen.
Her body was moist and hot as he lay beside her, and she felt as if she were glowing with sensual hunger. She cupped her breasts as she gave them over to his sucking. His cock lanced up against one of her thighs, and she rubbed her leg against its rigid heated length, ecstatic to realize that she had finally won it for her own.
Let the law call it incest and brand it as a felony. She only knew that she had to have him here, in her bed, now and forever. There were moral laws and there were legal laws, but above and beyond these were the laws of the heart, and Cathy Delaney pulled her brother's body closer and gave her loving heart the reins to gallop at its own joyous pace.
Dreams could come true. Even the wildest and sweetest.
Cathy's finally had, and as she guided his cock into her pussy, she knew that they could make it together. They could find a way to the happiness they deserved.
