Reciprocal Needs
Chapter 5

Copyright© 2002 by Paul Phenomenon

Incest Sex Story: Chapter 5 - A love story between a brother and sister.

Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Incest   Brother   Sister   First   Oral Sex   Masturbation   Voyeurism   Slow  

"All right," Kensington said, "Here's what I'll do. I have a three-man show scheduled next month. One of the artists will not be ready. He's never ready, and I've decided to drop him. I can't abide lazy artists, drunks or addicts. I'll select five or six of these paintings for the show and include Darrin Cannon in the advertising. If the paintings sell out during the show, including the week following the show, I'll represent your brother on an exclusive basis."

"Acceptable," Carrie said, "except we will not sign with any gallery on a worldwide exclusive basis. We will give you exclusive rights in Las Vegas." She glanced at Darrin. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was going to say something. She shook her head and frowned, and he settled down.

Kensington stared at her, and she stared right back. Intuitively, she knew the first of them to speak would lose. She waited patiently. Finally, he shuffled his feet and said, "The exclusivity is a deal breaker, Ms. Cannon."

"Do you own galleries outside Las Vegas?"

"No, but I have reciprocity with a number of galleries worldwide."

"But not all of them, correct?"

"Of course not," he said as if she were stupid.

She ignored the implication. "How many other galleries do you work with on this basis and where are they located?"

A sheepish look crossed his face, but he squared his shoulders defiantly, puffed up his skinny chest and stated, "Five. Two in Los Angeles, one in Phoenix, one in Houston, and one in Denver."

"Hardly worldwide. We will give you exclusivity in Las Vegas and with these galleries, but that's all."

She watched anger glint in his eyes, but he nodded. "I'll want fifty percent then," he added.

"Forty. Fifty just isn't done."

Kensington stared at her again but suddenly grinned. "You've done your homework, young lady. Forty it is. What price for the paintings?"

She had feared this question. If she quoted the value of Darrin's paintings too low, he would lose interest. If her estimate was too high, he might back out of the deal, and she didn't have the slightest idea of their true value. "What's the average price for the paintings of the other two artists who will be included in the show?"

"Around $5,000."

"I know nothing about the other artists. How do Darrin's paintings compare?"

"To my mind they're better. Much better. And I believe the collectors, art lovers and critics who will attend the show will agree. Let's price them at an average of $10,000."

Carrie nodded and tried to appear calm. Inside she was a bubbling cauldron. She glanced at her brother. He stood with his jaw agape, completely dumbfounded.

"Agreed," she said. "How many paintings do you usually display for a one-man show?"

"Paintings this size, say fifteen to twenty."

"If Darrin's paintings sell out, I want a guarantee of a one-man show within a year."

"Agreed."

"At thirty-five percent with a higher price for the paintings."

"Forty, but the increased price is acceptable."

Carrie nodded.

"Have you selected the paintings for the show?"

"Yes." He pointed out six paintings, the best of the finished paintings, except one, which Carrie placed at fifteenth to twentieth in the hierarchy of value.

She knew she had telegraphed her confusion. "Why that one?"

Kensington grinned. "You're right, of course. Switch that one with the one over there," he said pointing.

Was he testing her? Whether he was or not didn't matter. Her estimate of value had been validated yet again. Carrie grinned. "When do you want them delivered?" she asked.

"Two weeks from today. We'll use Barbara's photographs for the brochure and other promos. I'll have the paintings framed. The cost of the frames..."

"Will be your expense, not ours, unless a painting isn't sold and you return it to us. Then we'll reimburse you for the frame."

He grinned. "Yes, you've done your homework. I'll have a contract drawn up reflecting our verbal agreement and send it to you next week."

"Very well. Please e-mail me any copy about Darrin and his paintings for the brochure and other promos. I'm a fair writer, and I want editing privileges."

Anger glinted briefly in Kensington's eyes again. "That could cause delays, which I won't tolerate."

"I promise a one-day turnaround, Mr. Kensington. If I don't keep the promise, you can proceed with what you have."

"All right. You're tough, young lady." He turned to Darrin. "I don't know if you realize it or not, but you are well represented, Mr. Cannon."

"She's the best, Mr. Kensington."

"Call me Phil, both of you. We just started a long-term, mutually beneficial relationship. We should be on a first-name basis."

Carrie stuck out her hand, and Phil took it. She expected a limp handshake, but he surprised her with a firm grip. "It's been a pleasure, Phil."

After they walked the gallery owner to the door, Carrie turned back into the gallery and started up the stairs. As she climbed she started to remove her clothing. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "Negotiating excites me, Darrin. God, what a rush! Come on! I need you. I need you now!" She turned and continued to strip. By the time she reached the landing, she was naked. She turned back to Darrin who was still standing at the base of the stairs gazing up at her with lust and love in his eyes. She placed her hands on her hips with her legs spread slightly. "Well, do you want me or not?"

He nodded, skipped every two stairs and took her in his arms, swinging her around. "You did it, Carrie! You did it! God, ten thousand dollars!"

"Six is our share. Six thousand dollars! Times six! Thirty-six thousand!"

He kissed her as he carried her down the hall to his bedroom. After laying her on the bed, he started to rip off his clothes. She watched him and reveled in his body, in his talent, in him. God, she was hot. He wasn't, though. His lovely dick was elongated but still soft.

Grinning like a Cheshire cat eyeing a canary, she took it in her hands when he settled next to her. "I've wanted to try this for a long time. Tell me if do it wrong." She slid down and dipped her head. After pushing his foreskin back, she licked around the crown. It started to grow. She wanted to feel it grow in her mouth, so she opened wide and dropped her head, sucking him, tasting him, feeling him grow from mostly soft to throbbing hard in her mouth.

He groaned. "Oh, God, Carrie, that feels wonderful!"

She adored him in her mouth, which surprised her, and loved the taste of him. She licked and sucked and licked some more, then she licked while she sucked. He took her hand and placed it at the base of his shaft.

"Jack on me at the same time as you suck," he gasped. "Yes! Like that! Just like that!" His hips rotated slightly pushing his cock into her mouth and retracting it.

He's fucking my mouth, she thought and bobbed her head to the timing of his short thrusts. She wanted him inside her, inside her cunt, but she wanted him in her mouth, too. She released him from her mouth with a slurp. "Come in my mouth, Darrin. I want to feel you come in my mouth."

"Yes!" he gushed. "And then I'll do the same for you. I've been dying to taste you."

"Perfect!" Her head dipped again, and she explored every inch of his lovely shaft with her lips and her tongue and the inside of her mouth. She brought her other hand to his large balls and fondled them tenderly as she bobbed her head and sucked and licked and jacked on his hard-on.

"My God, you're a natural, sis! No woman has ever sucked me like you!"

And no woman ever will, she vowed. You're mine, Darrin Cannon. Mine! A few minutes later she felt his large cock suddenly become longer and thicker in her mouth.

"I'm coming, sis! Oh, God, I'm coming!"

She wanted to see his semen jet out so she pulled back. He groaned mightily, and ratcheted his hips up completely off the bed. The end of his cock hit her on the nose, and at the same instant, his come flew, splashing over her face. Quickly sucking his cock back into her mouth, she felt the second spurt hit the back of her throat, and she swallowed, gulped down his seed like it was a milkshake. Another surprise! She loved the taste of his semen. She swallowed again and again, milking him with her mouth and hand, and all of a sudden her lover collapsed back to the bed as if all the energy inside him whooshed out like a blowout on a tire. She looked up at him. He lay limply with his eyes closed and a small smile at his lips. Come was still drooling from the end of his cock, so she licked it off. She felt his seed across her face where his first spurt had struck her, and with a finger, she wiped it away and sucked the juices into her mouth. She adored the taste! His semen was slightly slimy, like an oyster, but sliminess didn't bother her. Another lick at the end of his cock, and she felt it softening in her hand.

Sliding up next to him, she kissed him softly. "I love you, Darrin Cannon, artist extraordinaire. I love you so very, very much." His smile widened and his eyes fluttered open. "And if you don't do the same for me right now, I'm going to scream," she added.

He laughed and rolled her to her back. Sliding down, he settled between her legs, his long legs dangling off the end of the bed. He pushed her knees up, and his hands caressed the inside of her thighs. "Has anyone ever tasted you before?"

"No, I've done a little petting, Darrin, that's all. I never wanted anyone but you. Do it, damn it!"

Her loud sigh of pleasure stretched out as his mouth covered her vulva and his tongue rasped up through her crease. When his tongue rolled over her clitoris, she climaxed. She didn't know an orgasm would happen. It didn't creep up on her, as usual. It overwhelmed her all at once, swooping like a roller coaster moving at full speed and hitting the bottom of a dip, only to be taken aloft again. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound exited. Her eyes snapped wide, but they couldn't focus. Without realizing what she was doing, she grabbed the back of her brother's head with her hands and jerked him forcefully to her, and at the same time, clamped her thighs tightly against his ears. Her entire body stiffened, rising from the bed. The orgasm continued, becoming stronger with each passing second. No sounds escaped her lips. She didn't breathe or move. It was as if her body had become a rigid, unbending mass of solid steel. The sensations didn't roll or pulsate, just struck and gripped her with continuous ever-increasing blissful pleasure, filling every molecule in her body.

Finally, the orgasm released her, and she screamed. She relaxed her grip on her brother, and he jerked his head to the side so he could breathe, but she grabbed his head again when another contraction hit her, and a second later another struck - and another. On and on, one pulsating grip followed the other, and she jerked with each assault, whimpering between the pulsations. She didn't know pleasure of such magnitude could exist. At last, she calmed with only soft pulsations striking her, each of them softer and farther apart. Like Darrin, she collapsed. Every muscled in her body gave up its hold, and she had never felt so limp before, so completely relaxed. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her clitoris became so sensitive she had to push Darrin away. She pushed at him, but then pulled at him, pulled him up so she could kiss him.

When she could, she mashed her lips to his and moaned. "My God, what did you do to me?" she asked when he pulled back from her kiss.

He laughed. "I licked you once, just once. I've never seen anything like it. You have a hair trigger. I take it you like my mouth on you."

"You can taste me anytime you want, bro. Anytime."

"I suspect it won't be like that every time."

"Probably not. If it were, I'd never let your face from between my legs."

He laughed again, and she felt his erection pushing at her cunt.

"Are you hard again?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wanna fuck?" she asked with a mischievous grin.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, fuck me then."


"You earned a raise today, Carrie" Darrin said.

They sat naked on the ratty, recovered sofa in the living room sipping brandy. Carrie was cuddled up next to him, feeling relaxed and happy. "Oh, how so."

"Your cut as my agent should be 20%, not 15%. Green at the job or not, you earned the top end of the scale. I still can't believe how you beat Kensington at his own game and won point after point in my favor. You were amazing, Carrie."

She leaned and kissed him. "Thanks, bro. How many paintings can you finish in a year?"

"I don't know. With eight easels, I can finish quite a few."

"Give me an educated guess."

"I'd guess twenty-five to thirty, closer to twenty-five than thirty."

"Would additional easels create more output?"

"To a point, probably. Why are you asking?"

"Do you think you can do forty a year without sacrificing quality?"

"No, not if I continue to work three or four days at the casino. It's a function of time, Carrie. You didn't answer my question. Why are you asking?"

"Besides the one-man show for Kensington, I'm trying to decide if I should set up another one-man show for you with another gallery this year. Will you still need to work at the casino if you sell all six paintings in your show next month?"

"I don't think so, but I'd be reluctant to give up the job until after the one-man show. I'd need to feel very secure before I quit it completely."

"What is it? A security blanket, of sorts?"

"Yeah. As jobs go, it's perfect for me, sis. They let me work my own hours, let me work part-time, and I can make as much part-time as I could fulltime in the other crap jobs I've had. About the two one-man shows this year, remember I'll still have twenty-five or so finished paintings after sending Phil his six."

"True, but only twelve of them represent the Las Vegas theme. The landscape I love so much hanging in my room may be a Darrin Cannon painting, but it doesn't have the same demand as the Vegas paintings, and demand equates to value. I figure you and I will enjoy your older paintings. If we put them in a show, it would out of necessity be a retrospective, and you have years and years ahead of you before a retrospective would be appropriate. I'm not pushing you to paint forty paintings a year, but that's the number we'd need to do a one-man shows every six months."

 
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