Prologue

I really love the taste of a man's cum. Really! The smooth feel of it on my tongue, the sloshing around of it in my mouth, the easy way it coats my throat on the way to my stomach. And yes, the awesome knowledge that my mouth, my tongue has given such pleasure to another human being.

(I also love the taste of pussy; we'll talk about that later.)

But after all these years, after all the gallons of sperm that I've ingested, deep down I know that those little soldiers swimming around in their creamy semen actually have no taste at all. Rather it is the realization that the first cock to spit its gift down my throat belonged to someone who I loved, who I so deeply wanted to please, that convinces me that it is not my palate that loves cum but merely my psyche.

I barely remember my mother. I was much too young when the Grim Reaper came for her, leaving behind Daddy and me, as well as my sister Sharon, three years my senior. Jeez, Sharon was so beautiful. Wrong tense; Sharon is so beautiful.

We lived in a nice home on a nice street in a nice part of the city. It had four bedrooms, all on the second floor. We each had a separate bedroom, with the fourth one, the one that was someday going to be for a baby brother or sister, now dedicated to the occasional guest. The guest list usually consisted of some woman that Daddy brought home. I think, never knowing for sure, that he slept with them in the guest room instead of the master suite out of some sort of respect for Mom's memory.

One night, while I was still quite young, Daddy had one of his guests. I was sound asleep until I was woken by the sound of yelling, male and female, and then the sound of the front door being slammed shut. Nervously, I got out of bed. First I went to Sharon's room. Through her wide open door, I saw that she was still sound asleep. I went to the guest room and saw that the bed had been messed up but no one was there.

At that age, I was afraid to go to Daddy's room and so I tried to fall back asleep in my own bed. Have you ever tried to fall back asleep when your brain is racing full speed and your thoughts are all jumbled? Sure enough, five minutes later, I was out of bed and tip-toeing down the hallway toward Daddy's room. The door was closed but I had no idea of the concept of privacy so I opened it. What the hell, he was always walking into my room without knocking and I never considered that he was doing something wrong.

The room was empty but the door to the en suite (what a pretentious expression!) bathroom was wide open. There was Daddy, buck naked – so was I, but that has nothing to do with the story – standing in front of the full length mirror. He was holding his cock, though back then I didn't know that word, I only knew it as his pee-pee. I was shocked at the sight, and forgot all about the yelling and the slammed door.

"Why are you holding your pee-pee, Daddy?

He said nothing.

"Do you have to pee? The toilet's over there," I said, pointing.

He just shook his head.

"And why is your pee-pee so hard?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. He was trapped. We've all heard the old story. Daddy, where do babies come from? Wait until your mother gets home, she'll explain it. But I had no mother to come home and explain. Daddy had no choice. He would have to give me THE TALK!

Which he did. But I didn't understand ONE FUCKING WORD! Looking back, he probably did a reasonably good job of telling me where babies come from and putting the parts together, albeit pee-pee and cunny. He explained why the pee-pees of boys and men get hard and why the cunny gets wet. I assume that he told me about the male of the species jerking off, however he may have described it, because that's when it got complicated.

"Tommy, how would you like to do Daddy a really big favor?"

Of course, I assured him, and the next thing I knew, his pee-pee was in my mouth. He didn't call it that, though. He referred to it as a cock. His hands were on the back of my head, his fingers running through my silky blonde locks. I remember him telling me that he wasn't going to pee in my mouth but that he would shoot something creamy in there and that I would enjoy swallowing it.

He moved his cock in and out of my mouth, ever so slowly. His voice kept whispering how nice I was, what a good child I was. I wasn't sucking; back then, he was simply fucking my face. But I didn't care. He was my Daddy, and I loved doing anything to make him happy.

After a while, his hand held my head more tightly and he grunted. I felt his thick cream fill my mouth. He told me to swallow and I did so. I thought that the taste was fabulous. Then he pulled out of my mouth, kissed me on the nose and carried me back to my bed.

He whispered to me that I shouldn't tell Sharon, that it would just be a secret between the two of us. I promised, and slept like the baby I still was.

In the following weeks and months, Daddy taught me how to suck his meat and how to use my tongue – like a whore, though he would never call me that. He used my mouth two or three times a week.

As the weeks and months turned into years, I became more and more aware of sex and of the fact that Daddy could use his mouth to please me as I did to please him. I asked, I pleaded, I begged, but he always replied that I was too young to properly enjoy it. I accepted it, happy that at least I could please him.

And then one night, finally, FINALLY, he gave in. He took my cock into his mouth and sucked until I unloaded my cum onto his tongue.

Forgive me, dear reader, for sneaking that in, the part about me having a cock. I just wanted to get your attention. The real story is by and about my sister Sharon.

Sharon

Thank you Tommy, you little runt, for that shall we say 'different' kind of introduction. I do love you anyway. And if I must say so myself, you do use your cock well. I was about fifteen when Daddy finally sucked Tommy's cock, so that would have made the little squirt about twelve. How did I know? Well, we'll get to that shortly.

But let's talk about me first. Back then, I was in my first year of high school. I'm not magazine cover beautiful but I am decent looking. Five foot two, eyes of blue, I weighed – and still do – about 110. That's 50 kilos to some of our readers. A heck of a lot of my weight, or so it seemed, was in my 36Cs, which made me kind of popular.

Believe it or not, my pussy was still cherry then, though not my mouth. And more than one mouth had tried to get milk out of my nipples. I knew by then the pleasure of a – finger generated – orgasm, as well as the taste of sperm.

Mom had been in the hospital for a month before she died, so Daddy was forced to be the mother for Tommy and me. He cooked, he did the laundry, he dressed me for school. And yes, if you haven't already figured it out, I was young enough for him to bathe me. And because little kids splash a lot in the bathtub, Daddy didn't wear a heck of a lot when he bathed me.

Sure enough, one night, after he had changed Tommy and put him to sleep, he had me in the tub. And sure enough, I splashed so much that his shorts got soaked. So he took them off and got into the tub with me. I knew what the thing was between his legs; I had seen the smaller version on Tommy when Mom and later Daddy had changed him and bathed him. I knew that it was what males used to pee in the toilet, and it was no more a big deal for me to see it than it was for him to see what I used for that same purpose.

Oh boy, now I know better. If I had a husband and found him in the bathtub like that with my daughter I would cut his balls off. But by then Mom was no longer around and so Daddy became a typical male. And I didn't know enough to react properly. So these naked baths went on for a few months. In retrospect, it was nothing but foreplay.

And then one night he began to wash my pussy, er, my privates. I didn't know why, for my pussy wasn't 'dirty' and I instinctively shied away, giving him what I'm sure was a funny look.

"What's the matter, Sharon? There's nothing wrong with me washing you there. Look, I'll even let you wash me there."

And so, feeling very adult at that statement, I took a washcloth, soaped it up and washed his cock. It was hard then, but it was always hard when he was in the bathtub with me, so I paid it no mind. I looked up and noticed that he had his eyes closed and that he seemed to be happy, and that made me very proud of myself.

Except that that mutual washing lasted only a week. Now of course I realize that Daddy had no choice but to go whack off after he put me in bed. But then his baser instincts took over. That night, as I was washing his cock with the washcloth, he put his hand over mine and wrapped it around his meat. He used my hand to slowly stroke himself, up and down the shaft. I had no reaction. Then he began to speed up, a little at a time, speeding, speeding, speednigspeedingspeeding.

He groaned but kept stroking. And then I felt something wet hit my chest and I knew that it wasn't water. I looked down and saw creamy white stuff spurting out of his piss slit. The first spurts hit my chest, then my stomach and finally the last ones dribbled down into the water. I was shocked, and somewhat surprised to see Daddy grinning.

He ran a finger across my chest and scooped up one blob of the cream. He offered it silently to my mouth. I knew that it didn't look like pee but I wasn't about to experiment. I shook my head.

"It tastes great," he said, putting his fingers into his mouth, cleaning off the cum and then licking his lips like a cat. Then he scooped another blob off my stomach and again offered it. What the heck, I thought, if he likes it, maybe I will too. So I licked it off his finger and swallowed it. To me it had no taste, good or bad, and I said nothing. Since I didn't complain, he grinned again.

And as sure as B follows A and C follows B, that became our nightly ritual, but again only for a week or so. Then,

"Sharon, how would you like to do Daddy a really big favor?"

And then Daddy began to do to me what he would later do the Tommy.

Anyway, one evening – which turned out to be the evening after my little brother's last night in the Prologue – Daddy had a date with one of his lady friends. By then I was old enough to be home alone and to baby-sit Tommy. Daddy had said that he would be spending the night at the lady's home. Though I did have a curfew, and did honor it, it did give me enough time to go to an early movie with one of the boys from school, Eddie G.

Eddie had something of a reputation as a Ladies Man around school. Perhaps that's why I put myself in a position for him to ask me out. While none of my friends ever admitted to spreading their legs for him, several bragged about swallowing his cum direct from the source. Of course, at that age, hardly any of the girls would have done a three-way, which is the only manner in which they might have tasted his cum other than directly from the source.

Eddie G. was old enough to have a driver's license, and so we never went to the movie but instead parked up on the Overlook and started necking. Eddie knew that I wouldn't let him into my pants yet but he did make that same old half-hearted try. And I did let him have the usual reward of unhooking my bra and nursing on my nipples while he squeezed my ass. Then I decided that it was time to give him a real treat.

I moved my hand down to his crotch. In an instant, his body was a stiff as the tool that I was touching. His mouth was still on my tit, my left one, but it wasn't sucking anymore. Eddie himself wasn't even breathing any more. I smiled inwardly, reminding myself again of the power that a soft female body has over the male penis and the male brain.

When he finally had to exhale, my fingers began to pull down his zipper. I moved it exceedingly slowly in order to keep him wondering. Clearly, he was enjoying the fact that he was about to be blown, but was he also thinking about 'having sex', as one of our former Presidents had tried to differentiate sucking from fucking.

Truth be told, I myself wasn't sure how far I was ready to let myself go with Eddie G. I knew how much pleasure I got from my own fingers. How much would I receive from what I knew that I would someday feel, a hot and hard cock? Was tonight to be THE night?

His cock was finally freed. Not my first, to be sure, even aside from Daddy's. Like the other boys I had known, his tool was shorter that Daddy's, and thinner. I bent to take him into my mouth. My upper lip caught that creamy little droplet of pre-cum; my tongue licked it off before I swallowed his monster. Yes, that's the word I used, because instinctively I knew that a guy liked to be told that his cock was a monster, even though it was totally average.

His balls jiggled in my hand as my mouth sucked and licked. I had learned enough on my knees between Daddy's legs that I could have made a decent living hanging around dark street corners. And so Eddie was getting his 'money's worth', so to speak.

Then I felt his hand slide under the waist at the back of my jeans, inside my panties as his fingers slid down the crack of my ass. But Eddie had no interest in anal fingering. His had continued down to my 'taint' and then up. His middle finger touched the bottom of my pussy, beginning the search for information about my cherry.

I chickened out! It wasn't time and I wasn't ready. I grabbed his hand to pull it up outside my clothing while at the same time twisting my hips. Without warning, his cock exploded in my mouth and without thinking, I swallowed it all and sucked his member dry. He pulled out of me and gave me a strange look.

"Sharon... ?" he started to ask.

I shook my head and he stopped talking. He drove me home in silence. I knew that he would never call me again and it didn't bother me. He had gotten his pipes cleaned and my conscience was clear.

But I was still fucking horny!

I slipped quietly into the house, hoping that my kid brother was already asleep, hoping that the little snot wouldn't start giving me a third degree over why I was home from the movies so early. Oh boy, was I in for a surprise.

My druthers were to race upstairs, tear off my clothing and give my clit the workout of its life. However, not wanting to wake Tommy, I tiptoed. Halfway up, I saw the bathroom door ajar and the light on. Or should I say lights, for the fixture there consisted of eight large bulbs in a row over the sink, standard fare from our builder. Stupid little kid, I thought, always leaving the damn lights on.

And then I got to the door and heard his breathing. It was like puffing, as if he was running a race. For sure, he had to be jerking off. It wasn't the first time that I had heard him doing that. I closed my eyes, wondering what to do. One choice was just to shout a hello and walk past the bathroom to my own room. For sure that would embarrass him, for he would know that I knew what he was doing.

One thing held me back. On so many occasions, I had found pecker tracks on my soiled panties when I emptied the hamper. I knew that they weren't from Daddy, for he had several choices when he wanted to empty his balls. And while I got some kind of kick out of knowing that my brother must have been thinking about me as he used my panties to jerk off into, still I was in a rotten mood at that moment.

So I pushed open the door. As expected, there sat Tommy, naked, on the rim of the bathtub. His cock was ensconced in my bright red panties, the ones I used at the end of my period. Not that I thought he was particularly familiar with the concept of menstruation. His hand was flying up and down his silk covered shaft in that sprint to the finish line that leads to a boy's creamy spurt.

He looked up in surprise and saw the daggers flashing from my eyes. His face turned red as a beet, red as the panties he planned to soil. Embarrassed, he bent over from the waist, as if to hide his cock and my panties. I glared at him silently. Finally, he began to cry. I didn't move, didn't speak. Then he jumped up, letting my panties fall to the floor. In his nakedness, he ran to me, wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his tear-streaked face between my breasts.

That little bastard. I wanted to scream at him, to bite his head off, slap him around, yet how could I, the big sister, remain angry at a sobbing little brother whose hug begged for forgiveness. At that point, I almost wanted to laugh, but I resolved to make him sweat. Alas, not for long. I spoke in a whisper.

"Tommy, what do you know about girls?"

It was a rhetorical question, and I expected no answer.

"Have you ever had sex, Tommy?"

He pulled his head back from between my breasts and looked up at me. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Other than with Daddy, I mean," I said.

His head jerked up, his eyes flew totally open like a cartoon character. And then he began to cry all over again.

"You knew?" I could barely hear his question, but I could read his lips.

"Tommy, he used to come into my room every night for me to suck his cock. When he started skipping a few days each week, I knew that he must have inaugurated you into his game." I continued: "Did you ever enjoy it?"

"You mean, did he ever let me cum in his mouth?" I nodded. He said, "Just once. I think it was a birthday present for me."