Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
A mature brother/sister piece this time. Caroline is 45, her brother Simon is twelve years younger. She’s staying in his London apartment during a divorce. One afternoon, Simon arrives home early…
I hope you enjoy the following. Feedback is appreciated. Apologies for any errors remaining.
Thanks for reading.
GA – Thirsk, North Yorkshire – 16th of November 2015.
A minute earlier and she wouldn’t have been lost in the rush of her climax. The timing might have been accidental, but couldn’t have been more perfect. A series of random connections came together to produce a unique set of circumstances: a cancelled meeting; hitting every traffic light at green on the way home; her need for release, unknown to me at the time, becoming too powerful to resist.
Each event fell into place with critical precision, the fates conspiring to lead me to walk in on my sister as she jammed a pink dildo into her pussy.
Seeing her like that was like a bucket of ice-water thrown in my face, a moment so unexpectedly shocking I couldn’t move from the spot. The impossible sight of my sister laid bare on the sofa held me transfixed. Caroline was spread wide, thighs parted, her face twisted with carnal torment. One of the most erotically compelling sights I’ve ever witnessed.
Her climax burst as I opened the door. She didn’t pause, just kept on fucking the length of moulded latex into her body. “Oh God,” Caroline groaned. “I didn’t expect you to get back for another couple of hours.” Her voice tapered away when the pleasure carried her off, leaving me unable to do anything more than gape at my sister’s ripe, voluptuous body, her large breasts holding my gaze for what felt like several eternities.
Time turned elastic, the image of Caroline’s tits shivering and rolling searing itself across the screen of my mind’s eye. It’s something I’ll never forget, that wink of time when I took in the detail of her agonised gaze and slack face, with my own sister’s meaty labia splayed to reveal the scarlet stretch of her cunt. I can see it now: her pink clit all taut and shiny, the ungainly folds of Caroline’s labia curled at the edges, their ugly beauty causing a fist of yearning to grip tight at my stomach.
My sister looked at me through a mask of tortured desire, then gurgled, “Are you going to stand there and watch?”
Caroline winced as air hissed in through her nose. She moaned and rolled her eyes, body convulsing while a half-choked sob came up from her throat, the tone of her voice and the look on her face goading me to an act of depravity which still has the power to shock me. It was what she said and the way she said it mingled in with the way she looked at me.
I can recall something dark and illicit uncoiling inside me as I stared at her glazed eyes, their depth vague yet fixed to my face as my sister croaked her way through, “I’m coming now, Simon, and I don’t care if you see it.”
Where it came from, I don’t have a clue; I have no idea what motivated her to say what she did. All I have is a dim recollection of unzipping my flies after she uttered the words.
She was half-laid on one side, weight on her elbow while propped up by the big cushions. For the next thirty seconds or so, perhaps more, my sister mauled at one breast, a thick nipple peeping between her fingers as she used the dildo against her pussy with vehement robustness.
She moaned and gasped, “Oh yeah,” the other breast bouncing in time with her thrusting, hips moving in convulsive jerks as Caroline fucked up onto the rubber cock, wincing and gasping and holding my stare with her own.
When she slid the dildo out of her body and used the shaft against her clit, Caroline pouted at me, crinkling her nose as she let out a silent snarl before plugging her gape with its girth once again.
Seeing that had me jacking my cock, and, mindless to the fact she was my sister, I moved in close, the surge already bubbling, working my fist back-and-forth until the first rush of ejaculate poured out of me.
Semen flicked over Caroline’s skin, the initial few spurts gleaming like thick, snotty ropes across her silky inner thigh.
“Oh!” Caroline yipped. “Oh my god, yes!” Then she was snorting and wall-eyed as my cum rained down onto the sofa and carpet, the jizm shooting forth in an indiscriminate deluge while Caroline let it all go.
There’s twelve years between us, with Caroline older, and the age difference means I can’t remember her as a sister living at home. I grew up and disappointed my parents by going straight into industry instead of getting a degree like she did, but my decision paid off after I spread my wings and started my own business in IT while Caroline went down the route of a career in accountancy and marriage. I managed to accumulate wealth while her path led to divorce, hence she was temporarily ensconced in my flat at the age of forty-five, a supposedly temporary arrangement which kartal escort had lasted two months by the afternoon I burst in to find her masturbating on the settee.
That day, as the fog lifted, after I’d pumped semen all over her leg, the reality of the scene hit me. I boggled at Caroline while she sucked air into her lungs, the storm having abruptly subsided. A weirdness enveloped us, a surreal few seconds while my sister fought to recover her breath and I struggled with the rapidly growing enormity of what I’d just done.
I denied it at first, despite the evidence in front of my eyes – the dildo laid on the sofa alongside my sister, the spunk on her thigh and the rest of the goo staining the carpet.
It was impossible. It just couldn’t have happened. None of it was real.
But then my sister groaned, “Oh God … Simon … What have we done?” and I gaped at her for a few seconds longer.
Despite the anxiety mounting inside me, my sister’s lush body held my attention. I thought her tits were incredible: heavy and round with islands of thick fleshy nipples in the large disks of their areolae, false to be sure, but a superb example regardless of their manufactured fakery. My eyes went down from her boobs to the crinkled and meaty folds of her labia, past the jewel in her navel, her tummy bisected by a horizontal crease because she was still laid there all scrunched up, legs wide, flaunting her sex.
“Caroline,” I croaked when I looked at her face, shame dragging at my guts. “We–”
My sister returned my stare, her expression unreadable. I had no idea what was going on behind her blue eyes. She slid a finger into the mess on her leg, holding it up to examine her brother’s spunk on the digit.
And that’s when I gasped, “Oh Jesus, no,” and fled.
I went blindly at first. I’d tucked my cock away and, ignoring the smears contaminating my suit trousers, all but stumbled out of the flat into the corridor beyond. The lift took me down fourteen storeys, the doors sliding open to deposit me at ground level where I gave Dave the security guard a vague, mindless wave as I went past his desk.
There’s a pub on the corner, a survivor of the regeneration in London’s East End, a place its former clientele wouldn’t recognise beyond the solid façade. My mobile rang as I ordered a pint of trendy lager, with my sister’s ID showing on the screen. I groaned as though in pain, which I was on an emotional level. Switching off the device to cancel her call, I downed the beer in several quick swallows. After that I asked for a vodka, another following soon after. And so the slide began.
The next morning it took me more than a minute to work out where I was. I woke up in a confusion of tangled sheets and a killer hangover, snatches of the late afternoon and evening coming back in an incomplete jigsaw. I could recall the pub and the drinking, and there’d been a lot of drinking. There was a brief period of not caring, the near euphoria of alcoholic overdose as I bought drinks for complete strangers, needing their company so I wouldn’t dwell on the sin.
Of course, inevitably, then came the crash.
The picture was blurry when I first opened my eyes. I attempted to blink through the bleariness, gulping down on the nausea while struggling with the deep, rapid lub of the pulse in my temples. Had I eaten last night? I wasn’t too sure, but my stomach roiled and squeezed and made dire threats at both ends. I gave it up after lifting my head off the pillow, dizziness forcing me back down, but, after a few deep breaths, I tried again, the anonymous surroundings slowly forming to reveal what was obviously a room in what looked to be a chain hotel.
I saw a bottle of water on shelf fixed to the wall next to the bed, groped for it with a low groan coming out of my chest, then twisted the cap and struggled vaguely upright. A few gulps helped and, with my head still pounding but my insides settled, I looked for my trousers.
My phone was in a pocket, the device emitting a series of bleeps when I switched it on. The bells and whistles went on for quite some time, each one signalling either a myriad text or missed call from my sister.
Ignoring the shrill tones, I dropped the phone to the floor and thanked the gods it was Saturday. Work would have been impossible that morning. It was all I could do to lie in complete stillness and ride the swell and ebb of the alcoholic over-indulgence, with the only power able to rouse me from bed being the necessity to piss. Anything more serious was simply too much.
The hotel phone lifted me out of my near comatose state an indeterminate time later. I’d overstayed my welcome and it was time to check-out. I did consider simply asking for another night’s accommodation, but then decided against it. I had cotton wool in my head and wasn’t think too clearly, deciding it would be best to face up to the issues confronting me.
Stepping outside küçükçekmece escort into a cold day had a contradictory effect. November cleared my head, wind like minty breath chilling my already thinned blood to the point I was shivering after a few paces. A taxi seemed a good idea, so I ducked back inside the hotel to call a mini cab company. The car arrived without too much delay, the journey home taking less time than I’d waited for the cab to arrive.
Going up in the lift was a nerve-wracking experience. So far, the hangover had demanded most of my attention, but the prospect of seeing Caroline brought my focus back to what had gone on between us. I stood at the front door to the apartment, swallowing heavily as I gulped down on the trepidation swelling in my chest, a ripple of something clandestine shivering inside me.
I recognised the dribble of primordial desire when images of my sister’s body pushed to the forefront of my mind, the shame clenching my guts at the same time I felt my cock thicken and grow.
“Shit,” I muttered, braced for the moment, appalled by my body’s response.
Then, after another deep breath and a girding of resolve, I opened the door.
Her carry-on bag confronted me as soon as I walked in. I looked at it and wondered at its significance before shutting the door. The first tentative call of her name went unanswered, with no response forthcoming when I repeated the process with a little more volume. It became obvious Caroline wasn’t inside the flat as I progressively searched all three bedrooms, both bathrooms, the lounge, my home office, and finally, the kitchen.
The note lay on the kitchen counter. A plain sheet of A4 from the printer with a few handwritten written lines: If you come back while I’m out, I’ll be back for my bag later. Please call me or text to let me know you’re safe.
I read the note and, somewhat relieved she wasn’t at home yet worried by the packed bag, brewed coffee and took a mug of the stuff into my room. I completed a slow toilette, taking my time in the shower before brushing my teeth. After that, feeling marginally more human, I climbed into my bed. Reading was a non-starter. Concentration wouldn’t come, my mind constantly drifting back to my sister, our sin, and thoughts about where she was going to go when she left my home.
Bizarre dreams snuck into my head when, without realising I was doing so, I slipped into a fitful doze. Lewd scenes involving Caroline danced and whirled, her body a torment, her eyes and voice narcotic and teasing.
“Simon?” I heard, my sister’s voice coming at me from a long way away. “Simon!” she snapped, the reality jolting me into wakefulness. “I’m just going to shower,” she told me. “Then I’ll be leaving.”
I blinked and looked at her, finding my sister standing alongside the bed, face tilted towards me, a pink, fluffy towelling robe belted around her waist.
“God,” I mumbled, shaking off a heavy blanket of torpor. “I was out of it,” I managed to slur.
My sister chuckled and nodded. “Yes, you were.” A pause before she asked, “Where did you get to last night?”
It crossed my mind to think how lovely she looked all tucked up in her gown. The dreams had triggered a pulsing erection, which, thankfully, was hidden under the quilt, my waning hangover only exacerbating my horniness as the memory of Caroline’s large breasts rose up in my mind.
I told her, “A pub and then a hotel,” trying to ignore the pulsing length of my dick.
“I was worried,” my sister gently admonished. She paused and then added, “You shouldn’t have run off.”
Ashamed to look at her, my eyes slid away. I looked at the quilt, half my mind taken up by the monster beneath while I gurgled, “God, what did I do? I’m so sorry, Caroline, I finished in a mumble.”
My eyes came up when I felt the bed dip. Caroline had sat down and was perched on the edge. If I had a mind to I could reach out and touch the sliver of skin exposed at the gape of her robe as it slid off one thigh, Then it occurred to me she was probably naked beneath the pink gown, the realisation sending a jolt of desire through my core.
“It was my fault,” Caroline said. “I mean,” she added with a grin and a shrug, “it must have been a surprise to come home and find me … Well, you know…”
Pushing aside the urge to touch my sister’s leg, and then burrow deeper inside the depths of her dressing gown, I gulped and asked, “What the hell were you thinking? The settee in the living room…?”
“I was horny. I’m quite often horny. I’ve always loved sex and there’s been a bit of a dry spell of late.”
I looked at her, speechless, my silence apparently prompting my sister to continue.
Caroline rolled her eyes and then added, “I wank a lot, too.”
“Yes, but…” I spluttered, shifting in bed so I could use the pillows as a prop at my back. “Naked? On the sofa?”
Carline sighed küçükyalı escort and looked thoughtful, then said, “It was exciting, sort of dangerous. You know, the thrill of getting caught.”
“But you did get caught! By me, by your brother!” I boggled at her, incredulity making me strident.
“I never expected to,” my sister informed me petulantly. “I thought I had a couple of hours. I never imagined–”
“But you just kept on doing it,” I put in, cutting her off. “I walked in and … and…”
Caroline grimaced and offered me a shame-faced look of chagrin. “I was coming,” she told me. “I was lost, there was no way I could stop.”
I saw her face as it had been. I sat in my bed with a head suddenly filled with the recollection of my sister’s agonised torment as she hip-fucked up onto the dildo. I saw it all again: her robust use of the mauled latex shaft against her sex; her breasts bouncing and shivering like jellies. Her face had been twisted with pleasure, her thighs wide, with the girth of the thing stretching her pussy.
“Jesus,” I gasped, suddenly desperate to touch my throbbing erection.
“You stood there and watched,” murmured my sister. “You wanked off too, Simon.”
I didn’t think she could tell I was squeezing my cock under the quilt. It had all gotten to be too much for me to cope with; I couldn’t stop myself from squeezing and kneading the shaft while somehow resisting the urge to throw back the cover and really set loose.
“And you came all over my leg,” Caroline went on. “You loved it,” she purred, smirking into my face.
I saw my sister’s brow furrow. She glanced down to the quilt, her focus going to the exact place under which my hand was working my cock.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked, then reached for the edge of the cover.
She looked at my hard-on, stared at it, apparently absorbed. I had it in my hand, fingers curled around the solid mass of its girth, fist immobile while the moment stretched and the power of reasonable thought left me.
Her voice, curdled with whatever my sister was feeling, came bubbling up. “You can do it in front of me, Simon … If you want to. Please,” she went on. “Do it. I want to watch.”
I mumbled her name, the last shred of resistance coming away before, with my gaze fixed to her face, I began slowly caressing my length.
“Just do it for me, Simon,” she cooed.
So I began stroking with a more deliberate action, working my cock, hand speeding up as the lust bloomed white hot inside me.
“You’re my sister,” I croaked, which meant nothing; they were just words. It was like it had been for her – I was lost and there was no way I could stop. If I hadn’t quite understood what Caroline had meant when she’d told me, I certainly got it as my yearning enveloped me. What had been unthinkable a single day before was now truth. My sister was watching me cranking my cock, and no power on Earth could stop me from carrying on ’til it spat goo.
I was working it hard, gasping and wall-eyed with the pleasure of it when Caroline rose to her feet.
“Oh Jesus,” I whined as I watched her hands go to the belt. A quick tug and the knot slipped free, the robe parting. My sister eased it free of her shoulders to expose her breasts to my eyes. I gawped at those weighty orbs swinging and swaying, a fresh burst of desire exploding in the indefinable place low down in my belly as Caroline’s head canted and she looked at me with vulpine intent. She kept her eyes fixed on me for several moments before hefting her breasts with both hands, lifting one nipple towards her face while ducking in low.
“Do you want to touch them?” she asked after sucking at one teat.
“Can I?” I breathed.
Caroline smiled and leaned over me. “God yes.”
The robe fell to the floor to reveal the full magnificence of my sister’s body, and I reached up with the fingers of one hand to touch her tit-flesh for the first time.
“Touch me,” murmured my sister. “That’s it little brother,” she cooed. “Feel my tits. You like them, don’t you?”
“Oh fuck, yes,” I said on a sigh, the taboo of touching my own sister’s body causing an upsurge in arousal. I yanked hard at my cock, moaning while kneading and squeezing. I whined, “Fucking hell, Caroline, you’re fucking sensational.”
My sister chuckled and pursed her lips, pouting down at where I was cranking away. “I didn’t realise you were such a hefty boy,” Caroline said, then mumbled, “Here, let me,” while abruptly taking control of my cock. “It’s fucking gorgeous,” she purred as she knelt on the bed. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you coming all over the place. That was so bloody filthy.”
By then I wasn’t taking much in. I was stunned to see her jacking my length, blown away by the fact she’d allowed me to touch her breasts as this new surprise hit me. But, if I thought the surprises were over, I was sorely mistaken. My sister sucked on her bottom lip, eyes glazing, then just came out and said it.
“I want to fuck you,” Caroline mewled. “I know it’s wrong, but I’m just so fucking horny. Just once,” she went on. “I promise I’ll never tell.”
My hands went to her waist as she straddled me. I hadn’t said yes, but neither had I said no; and the truth is, at that moment, I would have gone along with anything she cared to suggest.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32