Visiting Kitty
Copyright© 2026 by Deckhard
Chapter 2
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 2 - A young man visits his beautiful older sister.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Incest Brother Sister
The bar was stuffy and loud.
A local rock band was playing something nostalgic. I loved the relaxed dress code in these touristy beach towns.
Are we at the beach? A nightclub? Who knows? Who cares?
Kitty led me in like she owned the place. Her hips swayed, her bikini top clung, and her eyes scanned the room like she was looking for trouble.
Behind the bar stood a beautiful young woman who obviously was the cute bartender. She had black hair in loosely braided pigtails, a cut-off tank top that showed off her pierced bellybutton, and very low-rise jeans that clung to her hips like they were painted on. Her skin was tanned, her arms toned. Then her sharp, playful smile landed straight on Kitty.
“Hey, sexy,” she called out.
Kitty smiled. “Hey, Angie.”
“Two beers and two shots, please,” she added, leaning against the bar like she’d done it a thousand times.
Angie poured without looking, her eyes flicking between Kitty and me like she already knew the story.
“You look radiant,” she said, sliding the drinks across. “Divorce suits you.”
Kitty laughed, tossing her hair. “Yes it does.”
“New boyfriend?” Angie asked, eyes landing on me.
Kitty paused. Just a beat. Then: “Yeah. Isn’t he cute?”
Angie grinned. “Oh, he’s an absolute upgrade in every way.”
Kitty placed her hand on the back of my jeans and squeezed firmly. Then she kissed me. Quick. Soft. Right on the lips. I froze.
Angie whistled. “You two look so hot together.”
Kitty downed a shot of vodka like it was water. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes sparkled.
“Is he good in bed?” Angie asked, smiling mischievously, as if I wasn’t there.
Kitty looked at me, winked, and said, “He fucks like a superhero. I just can’t get enough.”
“I would love to be a fly on the wall when you two are doing it later tonight,” Angie said, pouring the second round.
Kitty tilted her head, lips curling. “Hmm ... not tonight. But maybe soon.”
She turned to me. “What do you think, Cock-man?”
Angie burst into laughter.
I blinked, cheeks burning. “Think about what?”
“Letting her watch us in bed.”
Angie leaned in, eyes wide. “Please please please say yes.”
I was lava. My brain had melted. My cock was already half-hard and Kitty hadn’t even touched me again.
“Yes,” I said. I don’t know how. I just did.
Angie clapped. “But I can’t promise I’ll only be watching.”
Kitty raised a brow. “Don’t push it, sister.”
They laughed. I tried to breathe.
We drank. We danced. The band played something slow and sticky. Kitty pulled me close, her body pressed to mine, her breasts against my chest, her stomach against my erection.
She leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “You’re hard, little brother. You feel so good against me ... so big. Your muscles ... and your cock. Oh God.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My hands were on her hips. Her breath was in my mouth. I could feel her heartbeat ... and I was sure she could feel mine.
After another two rounds of shots and beers, we said goodbye to Angie and left the pub.
“Don’t forget about your promise!” Angie yelled as we walked out, laughing joyously.
“You don’t mind her actually watching us, do you?” Kitty asked, still laughing.
“Wait, what?” I replied, sheepish.
Kitty laughed again. That melodic, dangerous laugh. I got hard again. I tried to rearrange my cock and balls clumsily, right in front of her.
“Just take them off,” she giggled.
“Hey, it’s not fair,” I laughed back.
“Okay, okay. Keep your pants on. Next time wear something with a little more room for ... expansion.”
We both laughed, loud and breathless.
“Oops, I peed a little,” Kitty said suddenly, her decency clearly had taken the night off.
“You have a thing for peeing in front of people?” I asked, half-joking.
“That’s a good idea,” she giggled. “Let’s go over there. You stand watch, and I’ll pee. Or you can watch me pee, if you want.”
We wandered behind a closed coffee shop. Kitty crouched on the cracked asphalt, her halter riding high, her panties tugged down just enough to clear the way—or so she thought. I watched a golden stream patter beneath her, pooling in a dark, glistening spot between her feet.
But the piss was also soaking her panties on the way down.
“Oh no,” she laughed, drunk and melodic. “I pulled my panties down too far. I peed on them.”
A moment later, she peeled them off, held them up like a soggy trophy, and handed them to me.
“Hold onto these,” she said. “I can’t find my purse.”
We stumbled further toward the house and into the night, laughing, tipsy.
Then she kissed me again right outside the house, under the porch light. Longer this time. Slower. Her tongue brushed mine. Her hand found my waist.
I kissed her back, her wet panties still balled in my fist.
Kitty opened the door, and pulled me in behind her by the belt loop.
The hallway was dim and quiet. Her heels clicked softly on the hardwood. Mine didn’t. I was barefoot, drunk, and holding her wet panties in my fist like a talisman.
She turned to me in the kitchen, leaned against the counter, and poured two glasses of water. Her too had slipped lower. Her nipples were visible. She didn’t fix it.
“I get so fucking horny when I drink,” she said, voice low, almost amused. “It’s like my body forgets to be shy.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mouth was dry. My cock was hard beyond belief.
She handed me a glass. Her fingers lingered. “You okay?”
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