Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Incest, Brother, Sister, .
Desc: Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Sister/brother; brother/lover.
I guess I should begin at the beginning.
By a quirk of dating, the fact that I joined my nearly-year-old brother in this world eight days premature made a big difference in how he and I came to be where we are today.
Peter was born on Sept. 7, and I was due on Sept. 3 the following year, so I have been told. However, the fact that I was born on Aug. 25 meant that we would start school at the same time and we would be in the same class throughout our schooling.
At the time the events of this story take place, we were both 18 – it was Labor Day weekend, just after my 18th birthday and right before his 19th – and we had just started college. So we were, and are, consenting adults.
My name is Catherine, by the way, Catherine Anderson. I’m usually described as cute, with a smallish build (although I’m told I have a nice ass), small enough in the boob department to not have to wear a bra most of the time – and most of the time I don’t – but with just enough for some jiggle to draw some attention.
If you stand Peter next to me and look at us together for a while, you’ll probably figure out that we are related in some way. We have the same eyes – steel blue – and a few other facial resemblances. But if you don’t know and don’t look at us together, we really don’t look much alike.
For one thing, Peter has darker hair, almost a brunet look, and darker features, like my mom, while I am blonde, with fair features like my dad. Peter is also taller, about 5-10, while I’m maybe 5-2.
Our parents’ marriage was always pretty shaky. They both grew up in or near a smallish city in eastern Kentucky. My dad’s people were originally from Minnesota, but Mom’s folks were mostly rooted deep, deep in the Kentucky hills.
As for their relationship, they were from neighboring schools, a city-county thing, but struck up a summer romance after graduating from their respective high schools. Mom was still going to be living at home and going to community college, and Daddy was joining the Navy.
The story varies, but the gist of it is that when Dad got back from basic training, right before the holidays that year, they resumed their summer romance hotter and heavier than before, and she quickly came up pregnant.
I don’t know if the plan all along was for her to follow Dad to whatever base the Navy had sent him to, but my Mom has always been a planner. I think she saw Daddy as a way out of Kentucky, and she was desperate to get out of there. Can’t blame her, really.
They got married at the earliest opportunity and went off to see the world. And experience the world.
Let me be blunt. My parents liked to party, and whether they were together or separated, they partied. And the peacetime Navy of the mid-to-early ‘80s was still a party-hearty tour of the world, and they wanted to live it.
I think Mom would have been content with just one child, but my dad apparently wanted to try for a girl, and when I came out female as promised, we were settled as a family. Mom got her tubes tied and Daddy got a vasectomy.
So it was always just the two of us. Me and Peter.
Because he was gone a lot, we didn’t see our dad as much, but the one constant I remember from early childhood was living in base housing and sharing a bed with my brother, once I got out of the crib. These places were usually two-bedroom duplexes or apartments.
And we moved around a lot, so it really was just the two of us.
Peter and I did everything together – ate, played, went to school and slept together.
Although I was younger, I had a little more open personality than he did, which usually meant that I wasn’t about to be left behind in anything he did.
But Peter never once minded me tagging along. I was a ready-made best friend, he was a ready-made mentor, plus we learned very early in life that self-preservation meant there was strength in unity, and that we made a pretty good team.
I guess we were in third grade, about 8 or 9, when Daddy got a promotion of sorts. He became a petty officer, which came with a bump in pay, but also an 18-month posting in Japan.
I clearly remember that Peter and I were all for moving to Japan, but for some reason neither of our parents were that keen on moving the whole family over there.
It was no secret that Mom and Dad weren’t getting along; hell, we saw a few battles royal between them, especially when they’d both been drinking, which was far too often.
I think they wanted a little time out from each other, so Daddy went to Japan and we moved back to Kentucky to stay with my grandmother and the rest of Mom’s family, at least for our fourth-grade year.
Daddy had been the youngest in his family, and when he went into the service, his parents pulled up stakes and moved to Florida.
Peter and I had never stopped sleeping in the same bed, and that continued to be a necessity at Granny’s house. But things were changing as that year went by, and they came to a head that following summer, involving a horny cousin.
This cousin, who was maybe 12, tried to feel me up one afternoon when we were all skinny-dipping out at the swimming hole in the creek that ran behind my uncle’s farm, which we did quite a lot.
I slapped his hand away and told him to stop, which he did, but a few minutes later as I was getting dressed, he came over with his pecker sticking out and tried to get me to touch it. I was about ready to slap him, when I saw this blur coming from the creek side.
It was Peter, and he walloped the shit out of this cousin, knocked him on his ass, tattooed his face three or four times, then stood over him with rage on his face and said in a low, quivering voice, “if you ever wave that thing in her direction again, I swear, I’ll cut it off.”
It wasn’t the first time he had defended my honor, but it was the most profound and most memorable, and it just made me idolize him even more.
I didn’t want to tell Mom what had happened; she’s always had a bit of a temper, but Peter insisted, although we both begged her not to say anything to either the cousin or her brother.
To her credit, Mom kept her temper – other than a noticeable tightening of the jaw – and kept her mouth shut. But it wasn’t long, before the start of the next school year, that she moved us to where Daddy’s next posting was going to be.
It would be years before I saw that cousin again, at Granny’s funeral, and he was just as repulsive as he was when he was 12.
Mom and Daddy got back together, and they stayed together until after we graduated from high school. However, I think they had a discretely open marriage.
Let me put it this way; they both ran around on each other, each of them looking the other way while the other played. While there were fewer incidents of fighting, I always remember the tension level was always high in our house. Which, of course, pushed Peter and me together as a defense mechanism.
And that inevitably led to the long-term growth of latent sexual attraction, which wasn’t helped by the fact that after we reached 13-14 years old, we were basically left to our own devices, while they pursued a very active social life.
That was around the time that we both really grew into puberty, and we both did at almost the same time.
One month, we were still kids. A month later, it seemed like, we were young adults. I started sprouting my breasts and he started showing facial hair, plus he grew six inches between the start of eighth grade and Christmas that year.
We both developed our curiosity about sex at the same time, that is, after we started high school, and it didn’t take me long to start lusting after my brother.
As close as we were, we had always seen each other naked or nearly naked many times over the course of our lives, and once I figured out that sex thing, I knew my brother had something I wanted.
Peter, to put it bluntly, grew into a hunk. He wasn’t coordinated enough (or interested enough) to play any of the team sports at whatever high school we found ourselves, and there were three of those: in Virginia our freshman year, Florida our sophomore and junior years and California our senior year.
But he started taking up running, and ran on the track and cross country teams throughout high school. He wasn’t a threat to go to the Olympics, but he was pretty good, and I liked watching him practice, often without a shirt. That was always a delicious sight.
Me, I got into drama. At first, it was because I’d been bitten by the acting bug, but as I got into it, I really became more interested in set design and costuming. I learned how to sew, and became good enough at it that I’ve been able to make an adult living as a seamstress.
Peter wasn’t officially a drama student, but he liked to help out in building sets, and he was handy with a hammer and paintbrush. It was something we could do together, plus the schools we attended had some babes in the drama department, and Peter always called the theatre, “a target-rich environment.”
Of course, we both dated and we both lost our virginity at roughly the same time, in the spring of our junior year of a high school we knew we weren’t going back to for our senior year.
I believe Peter lost his virginity to a senior drama student (who I heard gave him rave reviews, by the way). I lost mine to a guy I’d been dating for a month of two, although I’d earlier learned how to give a solid blowjob and a good hand job.
My first sexual experience was, frankly, kind of meh, and I knew why. He wasn’t who I really and truly wanted. I let him fuck me twice more before the end of that school year, and while it got better, it still wasn’t any better than OK.
That was enough, though, to clue me in that I liked sex, but also enough to know that I wanted good sex, and that it was worth waiting for. I wasn’t completely celibate my senior year, once I started to meet some people, but I got more of a rep as a hands-and-mouth girl than one that would go all the way with a guy.
But, to be honest, Peter and I spent our senior year watching each other’s back at the mega-school we found ourselves in. It was in San Diego, and it was hugely competitive – in everything, including sex – so Peter and I never really felt like we fit in there.
Still, there were benefits to spending our senior year in California. The off-base house we rented outside of San Diego had a pool that we used just about year-round and it was kind of secluded.
Not only did the pool serve as our limited entrée into the school’s social life (much more so with the Navy kids than the townies), but it also allowed me to show off the kind of skimpy bikinis that were standard fare on the beaches in and around San Diego.
And I know Peter enjoyed the shows I put on with these bikinis, because often after we’d spend time by the pool, he’d go in his room and lock the door. He may have bought a little privacy that way, but the walls to our bedrooms adjoined and they weren’t very soundproof.
So I knew what he was up to, and I’d often indulge myself in some finger-patter myself. I don’t know what he got off on, but I always – always – imagined that it was Peter taking me, Peter fucking me and Peter filling me with cum.
See, even though we’d had separate bedrooms after Daddy came back from Japan and got back together with Mom, we’d still always been in such close quarters with each other that we’d always get flashes of each other in various stages of dress and undress, especially on weekend nights when they’d be gone out partying.
So I had a pretty accurate idea of what Peter was packing, a nice thick slab of cock, maybe seven inches or thereabouts. Plus, he was darkly good-looking, if a little on the shy side, and lean from running.
By this time, too, I had started shaving my pussy, and, yes, I got a tramp stamp, a tattoo of Tinker Bell on my right shoulder. No one, not even Peter, understood the significance of the design at the time I got it.
It was Tink, all right, but Tink in a sexy little outfit, and it was Tink whose heart (and body and mind and soul) belonged to Peter, in this case, my brother Peter.
As our senior year neared its end, we began to think about college. Peter and I had decided that we were going to the same college, and we were looking at one of the Cal State colleges, since neither of us had the grades or the ACT scores to get into the UC system.
We weren’t dumb, but schools like UCLA weren’t interested in B-average students with ACT scores in the mid-20s.
Dad was all for it, but I think Mom may have gotten a whiff of just how close Peter and I were getting, and she suggested that we go to separate schools. Mom’s “suggestions” usually had the effect of being law in that house, so we were forced to acquiesce.
And that’s how I ended up going to Cal State Fullerton and Peter to San Diego State. Although our folks were paying for the basics – room, board, tuition and fees – out of a savings plan Dad had started many years earlier, they didn’t spring for the newer, nicer dorms at either college.
Peter seemed to like SDSU all right, but I knew after a week at Fullerton that I wasn’t going to stay. It was too much of a commuter college, and I didn’t like the roommate I was assigned in the dorm.
We both got summer jobs that year, for the first time. I worked at McDonald’s and Peter worked for a home construction company framing houses. Like I said, he was handy with a hammer.
When we weren’t working, we would usually just hang out together, going to the beach or just sitting out by the pool, and usually we were brooding about out imminent separation. That just stoked our fires a little hotter.
On Friday of the fateful Labor Day weekend, after Peter and I returned home from our respective colleges, we actually had a family time on Friday night. We all went to dinner and actually had a civil conversation among the four of us, really for the first time in a while.
But then Mom and Dad were in a good mood, because they were going to spend the weekend up in L.A. with some group they’d hooked up with, which Peter and I had deduced was a swap club. They were leaving mid-morning on Saturday and would be back sometime Monday.
I guess they assumed we had a party or something we could attend for our entertainment Saturday night, then go to the beach on Sunday. Neither of us had far to return to school, so we wouldn’t need to leave until later on Monday.
In fact, we had no plans. The few friends we’d made in San Diego were all off to their own colleges, so, like always, it was a weekend of just the two of us, me and Peter.
That Saturday, we got Mom and Dad off, fixed some lunch and decided to hang out by the pool that afternoon.
Peter got some tunes set up on the outside stereo, we brought out our towels, some beer, got in our suits, lathered up with sunscreen and settled in.
Peter had on his usual board shorts, but I had a new bikini that I’d bought a couple of days before on sale. It was pink with tiny black dots and it was skimpy. The bottom didn’t remotely cover my ass and the top clung to my perky little titties, especially once I took a dip in the pool.
After our first little swim, Peter sat at the patio table with his backpack, pulled out some weed and rolled us a joint. We weren’t big dopers, but we didn’t mind dabbling in the minor party drugs, just liquor and weed.
Peter was always more in control of that than I was, and occasionally in high school he had to rescue me from my stupidity. Another reason why I loved him.
Maybe if we had been inside, where it was cooler, we might have thought a little more rationally. But it was hot, the sun was out, we’d had a couple of beers and smoked a joint, and we were in the right state of mind for what was about to happen.
Out of the clear blue, Peter said, “Hey, Cat, you remember when we stayed at Granny’s that one year and we used to go skinny-dipping down at Uncle Albert’s creek?”
“Uh, yeah,” I answered hesitantly.
Remembering the incident with Doofus, our cousin, was not one of my fonder memories.
“Oh, yeah, I know that all ended badly after Eddie took it too far and I had to beat his ass to get him to keep his sorry little cock out of your face,” he said, as if reading my mind, something he did a lot.
“But before that, wasn’t it fun to feel the cool water on your entire naked body?”
I had to admit, recalling those days, that it did feel kind of nice.
“Where are you going with this?” I said suspiciously.
“I’m saying let’s go skinny-dipping, right now,” he said, kind of in a rush, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was suggesting.
This was so out of character for Peter to be this forward.
“I mean, it’s just us here. Mom and Dad are gone, off to screw whoever it is they meet in L.A. They don’t care about us, what we do. They never have. We have privacy, no one to tell us no. I’ll do it first, if it will make you more comfortable. But, hell, it’s not the first time we’ve seen each other naked.”
On the outside I was wary, but on the inside I was rejoicing. I would finally get to see the fount of all my desires. I said nothing else, but stood up, untied my bikini top, threw it aside, shimmied out of my bottoms and dove into the pool naked.
“Last one in’s a rotten egg!” I shouted triumphantly when my head broke the surface of the water.
Then I got serious for a second as I looked up at Peter slipping off his shorts. I remember thinking that my brother really looked like a Greek god standing there with his lean physique, the long legs, flat stomach and narrow hips.
I drank in the sight of his shoulder-length dark hair, the dark shadow of his day-old beard, the liberal covering of chest hair, the dark pubic bush with his cock dangling from within.
Even soft, it looked beautiful, with a distinct, circumcised head and slender shaft, and the balls hanging slightly behind. He was the whole package and I could feel little butterflies in my pussy from the sight of him standing there naked.
Then he dove into the pool and the moment passed.
We swam a couple of leisurely laps, not saying anything, then I thought I heard Peter say in a very soft voice, “Fuck, Cat.”
I drifted into the deep end and felt a churning in the pit of my stomach that maybe he meant, “Fuck Cat.” And I was ready for him to do just that.
After a few minutes, we just sat in silence, me on the concrete steps and him leaning on the ladder at the other side of the pool, near where the deep end started.
“Shit, I didn’t know it was going to be this hard,” Peter said abruptly.
“What?” I said.
“Not being with you, it sucks,” Peter said forcefully.
I didn’t reply, but stood up and walked, slowly, through the water over to where he was. I let him get a long gaze at my nakedness, my jiggly little titties and my clean-shaved pussy giving him a glimpse of what he could have, if he was willing to take it.
Getting over to where he leaned on the ladder, I swept my eyes down his body, stopping at his cock, which appeared to be swelling.
Then I put my hand on his chest and the other on his shoulder and said, “We have all the rest of this weekend to be together. Why don’t we make the most of it?”
“God, Catherine, you are the sexiest, most beautiful woman in the world, but you’re my sister,” he said with an anguished expression on his face, trying, I guess, one last time to hold off the inevitable.
I knew he was serious, because he used my full name, instead of Cat, which was his norm. But I was having none of it. I had made my decision.
“Not anymore,” I said, and I pressed my body to his, my mouth to his and let him know in the time-honored fashion that I was his to do what he wanted, what I wanted. “For now, we’re just a man and a woman who love each other.”
We kissed ravenously then, as the dam holding back our long-suppressed mutual lust burst into a thousand pieces. My hand found his cock and his hands gravitated to my tits, squeezing and kneading, and our mouths devoured each other.
“Fuck...” was all I could get out after we broke our kiss.
“Cat, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said as we climbed frantically out of the pool.
“I do, about as long as I’ve wanted to,” I panted as I lay back on the lounge chair and dragged him on top of me. “Now, damn it, I want you to fuck me like we’ve always wanted to, and make me your woman.”
There were no more words as our mouths met again and his body fell onto mine, but not before I felt the head of his hard cock sliding up my hot, wet cunny.
It felt even better than I’d dreamed it would, nice and big, but not too long.
And, God, my pussy was so wet. Even though I’d just gotten out of the water, he scudded right up me, no muss, no fuss.
I was in full slut mode as I wrapped my arms around Peter’s shoulders, my legs around his waist and worked my twitching pussy up and down vigorously on his throbbing hot rod.
Peter’s hands latched onto my tits, and he squeezed them and played with my nipples, which has always been a huge turn-on for me. I could feel a strong orgasm building steam in the pit of my stomach and I could feel Peter fucking me harder, faster.
Suddenly, I found my voice, sort of. I squealed, gasped loudly, and used variations of the words, “fuck” and “oh, shit,” and all sorts of sexual babbling.
“That’s it, baby, come for Peter, come for your brother,” Peter in a low, almost ominous voice, and I did, exploding in the most intense orgasm I could ever remember.
As I did, Peter grabbed me by my knees, bent me almost completely in half, fucked me incredibly deep about four or five strokes, then he too came. It literally felt like his cock just burst, he shot so much cum up me, inside me, right where I’d always wanted it.
“That’s gooood,” I panted. “Fill me up with your hot cum, baby.”
Then we kissed again, deeply, the kiss of newly-sealed lovers, as we came down from our incredible high. Peter slumped forward, and his cock – with the copious cum behind it – oozed from my momentarily satiated pussy.
I scooted over and made a little room for him on the lounge, then as we cuddled in the afterglow, I murmured, “My brother, my lover.”
“My sister, my lover,” he whispered back. “I never thought we’d get to this point in our lives. I wanted it, but I wasn’t sure it was what you wanted too.”
“I want it all,” I said. “And I want it with you. You only. Forever.”
Then Peter got a playful look on his face, stood up and he looked down at me.
“We need to take this inside,” he said. “And besides, we’re going to broil in this sun if we stay out here.”
As we gathered up our things, Peter asked me a pointed question.
“How did you know I wanted to fuck you, to love you like a man does a woman?”
“I got on your laptop and saw the file you created,” I said in a teasingly disapproving tone of voice. “You really should check your computer security, and it was pretty easy to figure out when you named it Cat Fever. Man, some of those chicks were hot, hot, hot.”
Peter laughed as he cranked up the shower in the main bathroom, “You’re too nosy for your own good. Come on, let’s get cleaned up, then let’s...”
And he pulled me to him and we kissed again, a little slower than before, but still with plenty of urgency.
“Yes, let’s,” I answered in a throaty voice.
After we got accustomed to the warm, cascading water from the shower, we soaped each other’s bodies, feeling and touching each other, laughing with a little dementia at the turn of events, still not quite believing that we were here at last.
“I love you so much,” Peter said when we stopped for just a moment. We had been kissing, our bodies slithering together, covered in soap suds. That created electric cracklings of lust between us.
I could feel Peter’s cock swelling on my right hip as our bodies writhed together. I had never before been so turned on, so ready to fuck as I was in that moment.
“I love you too, big brother,” I answered breathlessly.
Peter got a devilish look in his eyes as he pushed me gently back under the spray to rinse the soap off my body.
I was slightly disappointed for a moment, because I’d been ready to fuck right there in the shower. But my brother knew what I needed.
Peter started kissing and licking his way down my neck, as his hands roamed freely all over my wet-slick body. As he kissed his way down my collarbone toward my tits, I gasped as his hand slid up between my legs and brushed my pussy. He fingered me gently as he sucked on my breasts, going from one to the other eagerly.
“God, you are so beautiful,” Peter said, almost to himself.
After a minute or two, he began to lick his way between my tits, down my chest to my belly button, all while fingering my cunt and stroking my clit. And then, suddenly, one of his fingers, slid toward my back hole and just circled the rim.
I gasped loudly as he played with my
little starfish and my pussy at the same time.
“You like?” Peter asked in a low voice.
“I’ve never had anyone fuck my ass yet, but I’ve played around back there with my fingers and occasionally a hair brush handle,” I said. “I think with the right man, I’d like it. Are you the right man for that job?”
“I think we’re going to find out, aren’t we,” he said, as his tongue resumed its journey over my groin area and down to my pubes. My arousal was spiking off the charts at the prospect of my sexy brother, not only licking and kissing my pussy, but fucking my pussy and my ass.
Believe it or not, it was my mom who suggested I start shaving my pubic area, after we had moved to California and seen what was expected of women at the pools and beaches. And I liked the way it felt sensually.
That decision paid off when Peter got his mouth right on my pussy, without having to worry about stray hairs, and slid his tongue up my cunt, before curling it back out to strum on my throbbing clit.
Peter licked, sucked, kissed and worshiped at my pussy like no man had before. There hadn’t been all that many of them in my short life, but only a couple even wanted to try eating my pussy and they weren’t very good at it.
Well, I don’t know who taught Peter how to eat pussy, or I didn’t know at the time, but I wanted to meet her, shake her hand, hug her and maybe ask her to demonstrate on me.
Oh, he was good!
His lips and tongue were a dervish over my twitching pussy, and several times his tongue journeyed back to lick my ass as well. I was on an express train of lust, riding ever higher up the mountain.
In order to get the fullest effect of Peter’s oral assault, I positioned myself so I was leaning over against the wall, lowered my hips slightly, straddled his face and began riding for all I was worth. I rubbed my hot, leaking slit over his mouth, his chin, even his nose.
I begged – loudly – for Peter to, “eat my pussy and make me cuuuuuuuuuum!”
I almost passed out as my orgasm hit me from my brother’s tongue at work between my legs.
“Wow!” I exclaimed as I leaned back under the rapidly-cooling water of the shower. “You can do that to me any time you want, mister.”
Then I looked over and saw Peter’s throbbing-hard cock still sticking out hugely in front of him.
“Let’s get dried off, then let’s get you in bed so Cat can take care of her man,” I said.
We barely took enough time to dry off and each run a brush through our hair, then we stumbled into my bedroom, which still had the covers pulled down on the bed, and collapsed together on the bed. We rolled around kissing and rubbing our clean, naked bodies together for a minute or two.
Then I pushed Peter onto his back and got to work. Unlike his approach in the shower, teasing me with his mouth as he journeyed leisurely down my body, I attacked the purple-veined boner that jutted up to the ceiling right from the start.
First, I licked up and down over the shaft, then I slid my lips and tongue up over the crown and let it slide past my teeth and into my mouth.
To this day, there has never been a feeling come through me like that first day I tasted Peter’s beautiful cock. He was so manly, a little musky, but so good.
I held his dick by the base and worked about half of him up and down in my mouth, covering the shaft with my saliva. My fingers gently kneaded his balls as I held him up to feed his deliciousness into my maw.
As I sucked his cock, I took a little more with each downward stroke of my mouth, until I could feel my nose brushing up against his pubic bush.
Abruptly, I pulled my mouth off Peter’s cock and crawled between his widespread legs to get at his balls. I sucked them gently into my mouth, each at a time, and as I did I licked my index finger and pressed it to his little starfish, just the way he’d done me earlier.
I kept my finger there wetly circling the rim, then I slashed my tongue across his asshole once, twice, then bored in with the tip of my tongue. Tonguing a man’s asshole was something I had never even thought about doing before, until Peter did it to me, but I did it almost without thinking.
That was how far I had already come. I was willing to do anything to please this man, my brother.
And to emphasize my devotion, I pulled my mouth back up and engulfed his raging hard-on, while at the same moment I pushed my finger past his sphincter and into his ass to the second knuckle of my middle finger.
Peter just groaned as I sucked his cock with a steady rhythm. But I was starting to get a little erratic, and the reason was my own rapidly-increasing arousal. The whole time I had been sucking my brother’s cock, I had kept one hand between my legs, strumming my dripping pussy and getting it ready.
I took my mouth off Peter’s cock, but kept a firm grip on it with my right hand, got up on my knees on the bed, straddled his hips, positioned the head of his cock to my dripping-wet, gaping hole and impaled myself.
We both gasped and groaned heavily as I enveloped his hot rod in my burning box. I had my hands on his chest, gently squeezing the taut muscles there, as he put his hands on the sides of my hips to help work me up and down on his cock.
We just gazed into each other’s eyes as I fucked my brother, just nodding our heads knowingly. Peter subtly pulled me slightly downward and I took the hint, dangling my breasts over his mouth. He responded immediately by suckling first the left, then the right globe.
Peter devoured my titties, licking and sucking them deeply into his mouth. That sent a shot of love through my soul because I had sometimes been teased in school for having small tits, although I knew they weren’t that small.
The fact that Peter couldn’t seem to get enough of them told me right then that he was my man.
Unlike our earlier rutting, this was slower, better. We fucked out by the pool earlier; this time, we were making love.
After a few minutes, though, I felt the need to speed up the pace just a bit, and I got an idea as I looked back and realized that the mirror over my dresser was perfectly positioned to watch what we were doing.
So I sat down fully on Peter’s cock and slowly swiveled myself around until I had my back to him, groaning in exquisite agony as we worked to hold back our climax. God, I’d never seen anything as hot as the image that reflected back at me of my brother’s cock buried to the hilt in my clean-shaved pussy.
I got up onto my feet so I could really ride him like a cowgirl. It was almost like I was in a dream as I rode up and down, up and down on Peter’s phenomenal cock. I saw my head thrown back in utter, abject lust, my titties jiggling on my chest.
Then I heard, “Wow! Cat that is sooooo hot,” Peter exclaimed through what sounded like clinched teeth. I knew I was getting close to a complete orgasmic meltdown and getting vocal confirmation let me know how close I really was, how close he was.
“I need to fuck you, baby, and fuck you hard,” Peter said, almost in an animal growl.
I knew what he wanted, what we both wanted.
I climbed off his cock, gasping at the sudden emptiness when his cock exited my dripping cunt. I quickly got down on all fours, with my face looking up at the mirror and my chest down just enough so that my nipples brushed the sheet on the bed.
When I rubbed them a couple of times over the slightly-rough texture of the sheet, I got a couple of little extra jolts of lust through my body.
My ass was up in the air, and to complete the total lewdness of the moment, I reached my left hand under my body to my already well-fucked pussy, pulled my labia – my dripping-wet lips – wide open and begged for Peter to, “fuck me like I’m your whore.”
“You can count on that, sister,” Peter growled.
I gasped as I felt the head of Peter’s dick being fitted into my slot, then squealed as he put both hands on my hips and drove it all the way in to my bubbling-hot cauldron in one screaming thrust.
Once again, we were two raging beasts, fucking each other with animal passion. My head was spinning as I worked my cunt back and forth on his pistoning cock, which jack-hammered relentlessly in my smoking-hot pussy.
I panted about four or five times in succession as my orgasm tumbled to a peak, almost like I was hyperventilating, then I felt convulsions rack my body.
I looked up at the mirror just in time to see the rictus on pure lust on my face while Peter’s eyes were tightly closed.
Then they suddenly snapped wide-open, and as my orgasm just kept mounting, he fucked me incredibly deep for maybe a half-dozen really deep thrusts, then exploded as deep as he could go.
Like the first time, it felt like a water balloon had burst in my cunt as Peter shot about six hard bursts of boiling-hot cum deep in me. That’s when sensory overload hit me and I simply passed out.
The next thing I knew Peter was kissing my cheek and whispering in my ear, asking if I was all right.
“Better than all right,” I said softly, dreamily. And I was. I had never felt better in my life.
Then, curled up in the arms of the man I knew I would always love, I drifted off to sleep in complete carnal contentment.
We must have dozed for a couple of hours and I didn’t wake up until I felt Peter climb out of bed. He was gone a couple of minutes, probably to pee, then I sensed more than saw him in the doorway to my bedroom, leaning against the doorjamb and staring at me.
He looked so scrumptious standing there casually, his long cock just hanging there, looking to be slightly swollen. I felt very vulnerable at the way he just gazed at me with a look that told me he was just as committed to me as I would be to him.
“I’m starved,” he said finally, shaking us both out of our reverie. “Let’s see what we can rustle up to eat.”
Peter threw on some gym shorts and I pulled on a pair of loose shorts and a wife-beater T-shirt. I guess we were still a little paranoid about walking around the house naked, although there was almost no chance of anyone coming by.
We smoked part of another joint while we pulled some burgers and tater tots together, then finished it after eating.
And we talked, seriously, for the first time about the new dynamics in our relationship. We knew we wanted to be together, but we weren’t sure how to accomplish that.
Of course, I was all for just packing up and running off so we could be together, but, fortunately, Peter had more sense than I did. He was always the rational one, the rock in our relationship. I trusted him and as we talked I knew I could depend on him to do things the right way.
There was no escaping the fact that I was going to be at Fullerton and he was going to be at SDSU for at least the current school year, but we were already talking about the next year. We would try to endure a year’s separation, then explore our options.
One thing we talked about was not letting the true nature of our relationship become public. Peter advised me not to tell anyone at Fullerton State that I had a brother; that he would pose as my boyfriend whenever he came to see me.
That would be easy; I didn’t know a soul on campus there. However, San Diego State would be a different story.
There were a few people from our high school that were going to SDSU, and I had already met his roommate, so there were people on that campus who knew we were brother and sister. Therefore, we would have to play it cool whenever I came to visit.
We didn’t reach any conclusions as darkness fell and we wandered back inside. We decided to watch a movie, but quickly lost interest as our attention increasingly turned to each other.
We just started by making out leisurely, kissing tenderly and touching each other. I stroked Peter’s cock through his shorts while he fondled my tits through my thin T-shirt and slid a hand between my legs through the satiny shorts.
Finally, I couldn’t stand any more. I flipped Peter’s cock out of his shorts, and he finished sliding them off his legs.
I softly stroked his hard shaft, delighting at the big clear ball of precum that boiled out of the tip of his cock.
I let it build up until it was just about to drip down the head then I leaned over and flicked it off with my tongue. Of course, I didn’t stop there. I swirled my tongue over the head, then opened my mouth and drew him in.
As I started to slowly suck his cock I could still taste a little faint remnant of my pussy from our earlier lovemaking, and that sent a charge right through me.
It was just so erotic to taste our commingled essence, knowing there was more of that to come.
After a minute or so of this, I pulled my head off Peter’s cock and told him what I wanted.
“I want to taste your cum,” I said in the sexiest voice I could muster.
“Well, what a coincidence, that’s exactly what I want to do,” Peter replied.
“You want to taste your cum?” I teased.
“No, silly, I want to taste your cum,” he said.
“You already did,” I pointed out. “In the shower.”
“So?” he said as we got up off the sofa and headed back to my bedroom. “I’m thirsty for more. I could lick your tasty little twat all day and twice on Sunday, and never get tired of it.”
“Mmmmmmm,” I purred as we plopped down naked on my bed.
Our hands roamed freely all over each other’s bodies as we kissed and licked each other. It was like a flowing river as our lips and tongues journeyed down our chests, each paying notable attention to each other’s nipples and then to our navels.
We were on our sides as we each lifted the other’s left leg and fell into a side-by-side 69. I engulfed Peter’s cock as his lips found my clit and his tongue swiped my furrow.
We both groaned in lust as our pleasure began to spike from our mutual oral assault. I held on tightly to the base of his cock as I sucked him in steady, deep thrusts, and he used two fingers in and out of my drooling pussy while licking and kissing my clit.
We were both rotating our hips now, pushing our crotches into the other’s face as we used our mouths on each other’s sex.
And now we began to feel some urgency. I found myself on my back, with my legs spread wide and Peter’s face buried in my steaming pussy, licking me, kissing me, fingering me.
I had removed Peter’s cock from my mouth momentarily while we got repositioned, and I looked up to the thrilling sight of my brother’s hard, purple cock dangling over my face.
I reached up with both hands, used one to hold the shaft and his loose balls, and used the other to feed his cock past my lips and into my mouth. As soon as his cock was halfway into my mouth, I felt Peter thrust forward, driving his cock to the hilt in my mouth and into my throat.
I fought off the gag reflex and went with the flow, letting Peter fuck my mouth as hard as he wanted. We were both climbing the mountain of ecstasy, our sweat-slick bodies sliding together in spasms of lust.
And here’s how so completely in tune we were. We both took just a second, at the exact same moment, to remove our mouths from each other long enough to wet a finger and slide it up to each other’s little asshole.
We finger-fucked each other’s ass for maybe 30 seconds and that was all it took. Peter gave a muffled roar as he clamped his mouth over my hot, twitching pussy, and I felt his cock swell in my mouth a split second before he emptied himself down my throat.
The first huge spurt caught me a little by surprise, and I kind of choked some, but I knew what to do, and I backed his cock halfway out of my mouth, then used my hands to finish milking his hot semen into my mouth.
It wasn’t as thick as what he’d filled my pussy with earlier in the day, but it was still awfully tasty and I swallowed it all with gusto.
Finally, I felt my orgasm finish wracking my body and I dropped my hands to my sides in utter sexual exhaustion. I let Peter’s still half-hard cock slide out of my mouth and I got a little mini-rush as it bounced off my nose and eye, leaving a slight trail of cum-saliva mix on my face.
Eventually, we swiveled around to where we were side by side again and kissed again, thrilling to the taste of each other’s cum on our mouths.
“I love you, Cat,” Peter whispered in my ear as he finally collapsed in exhaustion.
“I love you too, Peter,” I whispered back.
We had already locked up the house and turned off most of the lights in the house, so all that was left was for us to snuggle together on my bed and sleep the sleep of lovers.
As I fell asleep, I remember thinking, “This has been the best day of my life.”
Little did I know that the next day would be even better.