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From: losgud <lushgod@hotnomail.com>
Subject: New Story--Just Right [2/2]
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=========================

The following is total fiction.  Any resemblance etc. is a product of
your imagination.  This work is meant as ADULT entertainment.  If the
laws where you sit say you're too young to read this, go away and turn
yourself in to the thought police.  Even thinking about sex is dirty
and nasty and will warp your mind forever.  Go watch a movie or play a
game that ends with a body count in the high four figures.  Death and
destruction are good clean fun.

©1997 losgud.  Personal use just fine.  Archiving okay.  Absolutely NO
for- profit use permitted.  Reposting without notice is frowned upon.
Tampering with the text (rewriting) is illegal.  Copyright violations
will fall under the jurisdiction of my principality, where the
punishment is to discourage repeat offenders.  We cut your fucking
hands off!

=========================

M/F Inc Cons Humor

Note:  If you like to plunge straight in, skip this one. There's
plenty of steam in the end, but a bit of plot and lots of laughs to
get you there.  Enjoy!


JUST RIGHT [2/2]


"She didn't have a bra on?" Ginny nearly wailed.

"No.  And in engineering terms, she didn't need the support."

"She has huge boobs that don't sag?" Ginny's voice quivered.

"They've only been around a few years to suffer from the gravity on
this planet.  Give 'em time.  She'll be able to do tricks with them.
Flip them over her shoulder like a tie.  Bonk herself in the head with
them.  I mean, even in this, their first full bloom, they were not
attractive.  I mean, if it's a matter of having big smarts or big
tits, what's the best choice?  I mean normally I'd say you're double
up on her.  She's got huge ugly hooters and a vacancy sign between her
ears.  Whereas you seem to have pretty breasts but I'm not so sure
about the rest.  With all this lamenting you've been doing I'd have to
say you've joined her in the Dumb Club."

"Really?  You think I have pretty breasts?" she asked wide-eyed.

"Well, I mean, I haven't seen you without a shirt on since before you
had breasts, but with a shirt on, my guess is that yea, you seem to
have very nice breasts.  Like I said, _just right_."

I hadn't meant anything like that at all.  I was advised in advance by
the way she shyly lowered her gaze but without ever breaking actual
eye contact.  When Ginny gently bit her lower lip, I wasn't at all
surprised by the way she dropped her hands in her lap in hesitation,
then from there lifted the hem of her t-shirt up, peeling toward the
ceiling, revealing first her panties, then the soft curve of her tummy
on up to her lower ribs, then over the full glory of her breasts.

The sight stunned me.  They were perfectly glorious.  More is no
definition of better, but even so hers were nicely sized.  As her
shirt had hinted, she did have the sexiest nipples I'd ever seen.
Round and pinkly brown, the whole half-dollar defined poking out like
fingertips in the middle.  Just begging to be sucked, in the
vernacular.  Made to lightly rub between your fingers like lucky
pebbles.  You make your wish for magic to happen, and no doubt it
will.

Ginny shifted towards me on the sofa, then swung a leg over mine.  She
ended up both legs tucked in at the knees, facing me, her bottom
seated on my legs just above the knees.  It was a very playful
position and there was a very playful look on her face.  Her shirt
stayed rolled up on its own as her hands slid back down to her
breasts.  She smiled almost nervously, caressing herself.  "Do you
like?" she slyly asked.

"Well," I stalled for a reply, "I mean, tits are great and all.  But
I've never been obsessively what's known as a breast-man.  Though, I,
um, I'm starting to feel otherwise extremely persuaded."

Her smile broadened.  She reached for my hands, drawing them up and
holding them against her breasts.  "_Feeling_ even more persuaded
now?"

No doubt!

"At least these are the real things," she said with a sultry air of
pride.  "Hers must be implants!"

"Well, no."

"How do you know?  Did he brag on it?"

"Come to think of it, he did say something about her being an _all-
natural corn-fed heifer_.  I was mystified by the simile.  But now I
can see it as an udder pun.  But no, what I mean is the nice long look
I was given was enough to see to know.  The pump jobs, all you need is
a good glance to, uh, uh," I stammered then recovered.  Leaning over
with a conspiratorial wink, I lowered my voice in tone and timbre.
"This is, you realize, _classified information_.  _They_ can never get
the nipples in the right place.  They wind up looking like superboobs
drawn by little boys.  You know, the old tits-bigger-than-the-head
syndrome.  Come time to dot-the-i's it turns into a game of
pin-the-tail-on-the- donkey.  To serve you up a big plateful of
scrambled metaphors."

"May I ask one question:  how do you know all this?"

I paused, then roared with laughter.  "I hadn't even thought of _that_
angle.  Ginny," I was nearly weeping, "what can I say?  It's a guy
thing.  Yes Ginny, meet your brother Don Juan.  The pheromones just
blow from me in hurricanes.  I can't go out and walk a block without a
score of busty women falling to their knees and popping themselves out
of their tops for my viewing pleasure and implicit judgment.  It's a
rough job, but somebody's gotta do it."

"Oh stop it," she kept trying to stop laughing.

"As for the subject of adolescence-straddling boys misplacing the
nipples on their drawings of tits," I half-raised my hand, "I must
confess to an unspecified number of breasts mutated by my own
mishandlings."

"What is this thing with boys and breasts anyway?  Please explain to
me the male perspective."

"_Why_ is it even listed as a mystery?  Even bottle bred, you still
crave those sweet titties.  For most _girls_ it's no big thing.  You
guys get to _grow your own!_"

"Yea, but boys get the penises."

"Yea but," I paused for the effect, melting my voice a sexy soothing
smooth, "girls get clitorises.  You ever want to swap, you just let me
know."

Her hands left mine stranded on her breasts while she reached up and
finished pulling the shirt over her head.  Ginny shook out her hair,
"What do you mean?" her breasts jiggling in my cupped hands.  "By the
way, you make a _wonderful_ bra."  Her eyes shone with a thought I
couldn't quite read.  "You mean like answer how, where, when and why?"

"Y-yes," I stumbled.

"How about we meet half-way.  Right here, right now.  And why not?"
Ginny traced her index fingers down along the elastic curves where her
panties swooped from thigh to crotch.  She shifted the fabric slowly
back and forth across the flushy fronds swaying underneath.

I am no Don Juan, but I've had my relationships and briefer
encounters.  I was very aware that this vixen perched in my lap was my
sister.  But I am no fool.  I had to quit worrying about that when she
pulled the fabric aside, showing me the lushest cunt I'd ever seen.

"If you covet my clit so much, maybe you should lay claim to it."

How could I answer anything but _yes yes yes!_?  I slid a set of
fingers down and touched it, touched all of her, my fingers swimming
in her sauce.

Ginny leaned and toppled me over.  My feet were still sort of on the
floor, but most the rest of me was back down on the couch.  My head
was encased in breasts, so I didn't mind much.  I was slurping away,
paying oral homage to perfection.  Ginny lifted herself off me and
then raised up on her haunches.  The same index fingers started again
at the same juncture, but this time she drew her panties down off her
hips, spreading them wide to mid-thigh.  Then she sort of rolled back
and sent her legs flying, drawing her panties up high over her knees.
The most beautiful sight in the world was framed a few feet from my
face.  Ginny started making some coy remark, but I caught her in mid-
sentence.  I flew up and tumped her back down on the cushions.  She
shrieked as she went, then squealed as she knew what I was doing.  Her
ankles were still high in the sky like bound wings, twisted up in the
shimmery stretched slip of lace.  I dove down between her thighs, my
hands parting the way.

I sucked on her clit and lapped up the juices several times.  I was
content to spend the rest of my life kissing on my sister's pussy.
Eventually Ginny grabbed me and hauled me up, covering my face with
ferocious kisses.  "The way you make me taste," she murmured, dipping
a finger down and returning it for us to lick like a shared popsicle.
Except the treat was not at all cold.

Everybody's heard the tales of people in impassioned moments gaining
superhuman strength.  Usually the stories involve mothers lifting cars
off their children.  My t-shirt lifted right off over my head.  Then
Ginny's hands dove down to my waist.  There was a pair of long
tremendous _rips_, and then suddenly my cutoff jeans _and_ jockey
shorts were just _gone_.  Tossed aside in ruins, I expected.

"That wasn't very nice," I murmured.

Ginny grinned.  "Come here!  I'll show you _very nice_."  Her hands
dropped down over my hips, diving down for a firm double grip on my
_very nice_.  "How do you do?" she shook my cock, "so _very nice_ to
meet you."  She started rubbing the head of me in slow lazy tours of
the plushness of her wet folds.  I thought I would go mad!  "Mmm, big
mister penis, I'd love to put you in my mouth, but I believe we have
more _pressing_ business at the moment."  And at that moment she put
the pressing into business, stabbing my swollen head between her
swollen lips.  "Very _very_ very nice," she whispered, her boast gone
to a whisper.  She aided me another inch until I gently reached down
and grabbed her wrists, guiding her arms up over her head.  I floated
my mouth down over hers while sliding myself so slowly all the way up
inside her.  Her mouth kept moaning ever louder until just as I hit
home she went all rigid and silent for a second or two.  Then Ginny's
whole body crashed into an ocean of shudders, roaring ripples playing
out to her very fingertips.  A thousand fingertips were dancing all up
and down my cock while my nose filled with a fresh wave of her smell.
The range of her guttural groans and shrieks was nearly enough to set
me off.

"Mmm," I nuzzled, "you're _easy_."

"No," she gasped, "_you're_ amazing."

I slowly started that old familiar motion, almost an imitation of it.
Snug inside her, I barely moved my cock at all at first.  Ginny had
her legs crossed and clamped so tightly, locking me against her, I
could barely move my cock anyway.  Somehow I managed to gain a few
inches leeway, back and forth, in and then even deeper.  Ginny went
rocking beneath me, grinding against me, her fingernails digging
furrows all up and down my back.  I'd hardly settled on any rhythm of
to-ing and fro-ing when she detonated again, squeezing me still as she
soared over the crest.  I was so close I was scared to move, but then
again I was so close I really wanted to extricated myself for a
breather from that ultra- friendly environment down there.  Her
vaginal muscles were trying to suck the spunk right out of me.
Moments before I would've had to give up hope and just blow, Ginny's
entire body went completely slack.  There was still some breath to
her, so I knew she wasn't dead, but I thought she'd gone into some
sort of faint or something.  Which maybe she did.  Then her eyelids
fluttered open, revealing a pair of pretty balls of lust staring deep
into mine.  She released me from the scissors lock, moving her hands
down to a firm grip on my ass while her legs spread wide, wide, wide.

"Oh _sweet_ baby," she whimpered, "give me the fucking I've always
needed.  Give me the fucking I _deserve_."

"I thought that's what I _was_ doing," I nibbled the words in her ear,
"I guess I'll just have to try harder."  The words were magic music to
Ginny's ear.  Or, that was my guess at the meaning of the throaty
noise she answered.  I pulled myself nearly all the way out of her,
which seemed to draw the breath right out of her.  I pretended to
start toying around with the petals of her entrance, then quickly sank
all the way back in, giving Ginny a sharp intake of air.

For trying all the more harder, there was nothing easier to do.  Ginny
seemed to be an orgasm machine set on auto-pilot.  The hardest part
was keeping both sets of my toes this side of the line for at least a
little while longer.

Never in my life had I experienced a woman who got this so absolutely
sopping wet.  I was slathered in her cream.  There was a brief moment
when I wondered, considering the sofa, whether we wouldn't be wiser to
have a couple towels tucked under us.  But then I remembered we could
just flip the cushion.  Experience had taught me a long taut lesson:
the folks never bothered to, say, flip all the sofa cushions.  The
only problem would be if this particular cushion was the one that bore
the huge purple bloom of some Rorschach flower.  That would be the
never detected full glass of grape juice I managed to tump into my lap
when I was ten, immediately after having been reminded about the
admonishment against food and drink in the livingroom, specifically
when seated on the good sofa.  I trilled to the thrill.  Good old mom
and dad.  After all these years it was still the same old goddamn
sofa.  I could hardly have any sympathy.  The thought that all my
loins were smothered in my sister's flow just sent me going like
crazy.  I wanted to smear the evidence of our sex all over the world,
to linger forever.  I went pumping in and out like a wild man, my
hands grabbing and squeezing every curve of flesh Ginny had while I
nibbled and nipped her ears and neck and shoulders.  We were a pair of
gasps and pants and moans and screams.  I felt like we'd been doing
nothing but fucking on this sofa for years.  I didn't think I could
take anymore.  I was trying to hold off for a little while longer.
Ginny seemed to sense this.

"Come on, baby," she purred, reaching under to massage my balls, "give
me all of that big hot load you've been saving up special just for me.
Absolutely _just right_."

I could feel my cock swell so large as I went blasting off.  I watched
Ginny's eyes do exactly the same.  Hours later, we landed back on the
sofa.  Briefly we considered the late hour and our separate beds.  But
then we joined again long and slow and soft.  We considered further
escapes from the sofa, but always they failed.  The light of dawn was
soft and pink when we finally dragged apart.

Of course I was hailed as nearly a hero by all around.  I had worked
some sort of amazing magic.  Not only was Ginny almost overnight
recovered from her divorce, it was like she didn't even remember being
married.  Within days she'd found a lovely apartment.  After a few
weeks she'd settled into a lucrative and satisfying career.  Through
work she met this really nice guy, Franklin; the wedding bells rang by
the end of the year.  The ensuing half dozen years saw the arrival of
their three adorable kids.  My life has been roughly parallel.  My
wife Mona and our two boys.  Our families are rather close.  Our
houses are barely ten minutes apart, and that's if you make the walk
really slowly.  All our friends and acquaintances are almost jealous
of the closeness between me and Ginny.  Even the best sibling
friendships seem to be constricted or clouded by some old baggage.
We're always calling and chatting or dropping by, and our families get
together many times a month.  As well, about once a week--and everyone
agrees that it's so sweet--Ginny and I usually arrange some special
outing for just the two of us.  Go for a hike in the country, ride
bikes through the park, a schmaltzy double-feature at the last
drive-in in town.

One guess what the two of us really do.

========================= End Part 2 of 2 =========================

Like? Yes? No? Comments welcome.  losgud@hotmail.com

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