Visiting Kitty
Copyright© 2026 by Deckhard
Chapter 1
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A young man visits his beautiful older sister.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Incest Brother Sister
The taxi pulled away slowly, its tires whispering over the sand-dusted asphalt. I stood with my duffel bag slung over one shoulder, staring at the beach house that had once belonged to our grandparents. For the past five years, my sister Kitty and her husband Mark had called it home.
No one in the family had visited Kitty in five years. Mark made sure of that. She stopped coming to family gatherings too. Nobody talked about it, but the rift he created was real.
Still, I kept in touch. Texts. Occasional calls. Little lifelines.
Then, out of the blue, she invited me to visit.
I missed her. So I came.
Kitty opened the door before I could knock.
I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
She looked older. And so fucking gorgeous.
She was barefoot, a sarong knotted low on her hips, the fabric shifting with each step. Her halter top hugged her chest tight, holding her breasts while leaving the sides bare, the deep line of cleavage impossible to miss. With every movement, they shifted and bounced, the fabric straining to keep up. Her hair was longer: blonde, wavy, sun-kissed. Her beautiful tattoos were brighter, more colorful.
She looked at me with those lovely blue eyes of hers: the same eyes that always made my heart melt, no matter how long it had been.
She was thirty-five. I was twenty-one. She was my big sister. Fourteen years older, and still the girl I’d loved before I even knew what love was.
Confession time: Kitty was my first crush. Or maybe my first love. When I look back ... I’ve always been in love with her. It was the kind of pure love that made my stomach flip when she laughed at something I said, or when she cried because some boyfriend had broken her heart. I adored her when she lived with us. Her presence felt like magic.
But when she left ... that’s when the ache really started. I missed my beautiful sister like crazy.
And now she was here. Not a memory. Not a photo in the family albums. So fucking gorgeous.
And—God help me—my cock was reacting too. I didn’t want it to. I didn’t plan it. But there it was, pulsing with everything I’d tried not to feel. My cheeks were sizzling. She could see them burn. And she could see the tent my cock was raising in my thin summer shorts.
Jesus Christ, she could see it. I wanted to melt into the ground.
I saw it in her eyes. At first glance they looked sad, but as soon as they fell upon my guilty hard-on, they lit up with awe and mischief. Her high cheekbones flushed pink, and god—her nipples became as hard as my shameless cock.
“Tom,” she said, her voice shaky with pure love and probably the thrill of forbidden lust. “You’re here ... my little brother.”
She stepped aside, letting me walk in after her. I dropped my bag by the door and followed her into the kitchen. The place was clean, warmly decorated. It was cozy in that lived-in way that made you want to stay. It felt like her. Just like her old room at our place used to feel, even when she wasn’t in it.
Then she hugged me.
No words. Just arms around me, firm and trembling, like she’d been waiting five years too. Her arms locked across my back, her breasts pressed against my chest, her cheek warm against mine. She smelled divine—her shampoo mingled with a light citrusy perfume, bright and clean, a scent that cut straight through me.
I froze.
Breathless.
She was warm like a blanket fresh from the dryer. And my erection—already throbbing and leaking—went impossibly rigid.
She definitely felt it. Hell, she had made the conscious choice to press me into her in spite of seeing me like that.
She didn’t let go.
I panicked. What if Mark walked in right now? What if he saw his wife—my sister— hugging me, my thinly covered erection pressing against her stomach? I tried to pull back. She held on.
Then she laughed softly. Her voice cracked slightly.
“Oh my god,” she said, pushing me back just enough to look at me. “You’ve grown up.”
I didn’t know what to say. I was terrified. Turned on. Embarrassed. Shaking. My beautiful sister looked at me like she was trying to drink me in.
“Sit,” she said, gesturing to the kitchen table. “I’ll make us coffee.”
I sat, grateful for the table that hid everything.
She turned her back to me and walked to the espresso machine. Her sarong swayed with her hips. I stared. I couldn’t help it.
She pulled two shots, frothed milk, poured slowly. Her movements were practiced, sensual, distracted.
“How are Mom and Dad?” she asked, not turning around.
“Fine,” I said. My voice cracked. “They’re good. They miss you.”
“And Mark?” I asked. “Is he coming later?”
She didn’t answer.
She came back with the cappuccinos and sat across from me. Her eyes were tired. Her smile was gone.
“Mark isn’t coming home,” she said. “We’re getting a divorce.”
I didn’t speak.
“I haven’t told Mom and Dad yet,” she added. “I didn’t want to explain. I’m hoping it’ll be smooth. Quiet.”
“But ... that’s great news, Kitty,” I said a bit too quickly, too brightly. “Mom and Dad will be happy to hear that.”
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