Inside The Dark Zone

I evaluated the quality of Sister's performance: it was perfectly executed.

Her mouth was constantly attached to my son's cock. I watched them below me as I swam upwards through the honey ocean. They made slow progress in their ascension because she was down between his legs with his cock in her mouth. Her head moved back and forth endlessly.

Sister had earlier stalled our progress through the strawberry jam and apricot conserve a number of times, because she kept dropping to her knees before Mark and taking his cock in her mouth. He stood there groaning, looking down at her, looking at me, as her head twisted from side to side and raced back and forth.

I went for Mark's dick a few times, but Sister just refused to leave it alone for more than a few minutes. She would suck him and then stop exactly ten seconds before his orgasm. She followed that protocol dozens of times during our journey towards the chocolate. Mark was a shaking horny mess by the end of it.

I cleared my throat.

Sister stopped sucking. She broke her kiss and threw sweet caramel at me. I screamed and shielded myself, but took the rich fluid in my face anyway. I shook my head and wiped the caramel from my eyes as it oozed down.

"C'mon you two, we're almost there. Mark wants to have sex in the chocolate remember, and then he wants to bath in the champagne."

"Right, let's go then," Sister said, holding onto her patience.

"Okay ladies, hold your breath and go for it," Mark exclaimed.

The three of us looked at each other, took a deep breath and held it - we then dove head first into the caramel pool and disappeared from sight.

An hour later we dragged ourselves out of the thick caramel sludge at the other end. The three of us were breathing hard from the effort of having to swim through a labyrinth of softened fudge, and navigate the twists and turns formed by the razor sharp rock candy.

"C'mon Mommy," Sister said, pointing, "the chocolate is just over there."

Sister and I grabbed my son's hand and ran towards the chocolate stream. It flowed swiftly and made a sharp right hand turn and then disappeared from sight. It was a dark rich variety and almost matched the colour of my skin.

"C'mon, I can't stand this anymore," Sister said, grabbing hold of her brother's cock and pulling him down the bank and into the bubbling, fast moving chocolate.

I chased after the two of them, desperate for sex myself. We fought our way through the dark stream and lay back on the shoreline while all the chocolate, caramel and honey ran.

I lay down besides Mark and kissed him and stroked his thick cock. Sister reclined back on the shore and spread her legs, showing him her drenched chocolate pussy.

"Come here Mark and give me your cock," Sister whispered.

"Go Mark, put it in your sister and then later you can put it in me."

My son leapt to his feet and then dropped to his knees before his beautiful Sister. He wriggled and squirmed on top of her - the two of them resembled animated chocolate creatures. His cock was covered in sweet goo. Sister took him in hand and he found his place. He slowly buried his cock in Sister's body. They both groaned long and low. Then they erupted in happy laughter.

"Hold still - don't move Mark," Sister and I both urged after a moment.

I could almost see Sister making her calculations. She quickly assessed the current length and diameter of Mark's dick. She adjusted the depth and width of her pussy to give him the maximum amount of sexual pleasure. She was the perfect size for him. I then sensed her raising her body temperature until her face was flushed and she began to perspire, causing the chocolate and caramel to trickle from her in fine watery streams.

"Do you love me Mark?"

"Yes, of course Sister," Mark whispered, still not moving, but sensing a change in his wife's body.

"Fuck me then Mark. Fuck me and prove you really love me."

My son did as he was instructed to do. He gasped softly and looked down at Sister with a wide-eyed expression. His hips moved with exaggerated rough strokes. The fine muscles running along his spine rippled. Their bodies collided with a soft thump.

Sister's large breasts lolled and bounced gently. Her eyes were closed and her thick red lips were open like a breathing pussy.

"Oh God Sister," he said. "You feel so good and you're body is boiling."

Sister suddenly became irrational, exceeding her ethical and occupational parameters. She dug her fingernails into my son's beautiful chocolate coated body and dragged them down his upper back. He winced and then whimpered in both pain and pleasure. I decided to move in closer, rather than interrupt Mark at such a watershed moment. I was, however, all ready to save him from Sister if she became dysfunctional and dangerous.

I came and lay close to Mark and Sister. She was looking up at him with a fierce expression on her face. Her dark eyes looked fiery and mad in their hard brilliance. Her nostrils were flared and she wore a strange wide grin. She was too obsessed with Mark and too sex hungry.

"You're gonna make me cum, if you keep giving it to me like that bro."

"Oh yes Mark. Listen to what Sister's saying – she loves your cock son. You're gonna make her cum if you keep that up."

"Oh Mommy it feels so good. Oh I love you Mark. Fuck me and show me that you love me."

"Awww Mommy," Mark said. "I love you both so much."

"We love you too son, don't we Sister."

Sister didn't speak. She became unpredictable. She grabbed my son's shoulders and abruptly sat up. She then shoved Mark down onto his back. She landed on top of him with his cock still inside her.

For a moment I thought Mark may have been hurt by Sister - he was dazed, but excited by her manoeuvre. He was laughing together with her, before she sealed his mouth with another hot kiss.

Sister wouldn't listen to reason. She was insatiable and wouldn't stop or slow her movements. She pinned Mark down and rose and crashed. Fluid was exploding and spraying from her - streaking their sticky skin and showering his face and neck.

"Sister," I cautioned. Sister was strong enough to bend and break reinforced steel with her bare hands.

I watched Mark's cock. Sister was squeezing the knob in her snug slippery pussy. I watched mesmerised as she softly crushed the head a few times and then dropped and swallowed the whole length in one smooth tight stroke. He barely moved his body. Sister just nailed him, doing all the work without growing tired, keeping the rhythm without skipping a beat.

"Awwww goddamn it Sisterrrrr," Mark groaned out. "Awwwww, hawwww, hawwww, hawwww. Awwwww, hawwww, hawwww, hawwww."

My estimates, based on empirical evidence, suggested that Mark had 30 seconds to go before orgasm. He was holding onto Sister's broad hips and he was whimpering up at her. His head rocked as his beautiful body was pounded into shape by Sister. I was sure she was malfunctioning, possibly insane.

"Awwwww, hawwww, hawwww, hawwww. Awwwww, hawwww, hawwww, hawwww."

Sister, I assumed was calculating and co-ordinating her own orgasm to match Mark's. Good girl, I thought – she was going to cum at the same time as my son. That's what happened.

"Awwwww, hawwww, hawwww, hawwww. Awwwww, hawwww, hawwww, hawwww."

"Oh Mark I'm gonna cum," Sister said sweetly and breathlessly. Then she grew louder and more urgent.

"Oh, I love you Sister!"

"I love you too."

I laughed and clapped my hands.

Sister held to her rhythm. She did, however increase her speed. I assume she tightened her pussy a fraction more as well, as per pleasure model guidelines. She threw her head back, closed her eyes and her jaw dropped. More fluid erupted from her. She cried out in her high girlish voice and came.

Mark joined her, quickly gaining elevation from mere pleasure to something which made his whole body just flinch as hard as he could, all his muscles tense. Sister grinned down at him amazed.

"He's coming inside me Mommy!"

Sister looked down at herself, at her belly, astonished and delighted. She had all his semen surely, but she refused to stop.

"Sister darling, it's time to stop. Let him lie and recover."

Sister ignored me. She trapped an exhausted Mark beneath her delicious body. She rose and fell again and again, the shining cock appearing and disappearing, fluid running down its length.

"Awww Sister, stop now," Mark begged, holding her hips tight, trying to halt her progress.

Sister stopped for a moment, smiling down at Mark strangely. Then a second later she raced up and down again, probably reducing the width of her pussy once more. Her breasts bounced and her head rolled back and forth. Mark was whimpering, his limbs shaking, his torso twisting. She was tormenting him, torturing him.

"Sister, stop and get off your husband," I commanded.

"I want it all," Sister said, looking jealous and possessive. "I want all his semen inside me."

She fucked him hard. She screeched at him, at me. She had a big grin on her face. Her eyes were mad.

"Sister, stop and lie down on me," Mark said softly, caressing her body.

Sister looked down at her brother and grew gentle and then more emotional. She wiped a tear from her eye and lay forward over Mark, down in his arms.

"I'm so sorry Mark, I became irrational."

"You have to give pleasure and love Sister. You have to care. You have to please Mark. You have to maintain a level of self-control at all times or else you could hurt him."

"Yes Mommy," Sister said, her chin trembling. "I'm sorry."

I looked down at the two of them. I wasn't sure what I should do about Sister and whether she was safe and functional. Mark was stroking her hair and kissing her head while she cried.

*******

30 minutes later we arrived at the champagne and the end of our journey. The enormous bottle was at least a mile high and a few hundred feet across at the base. A long staircase wound its way around and around the bottle, from the bottom all the way to the top, far above us.

"Oh my God," I said, "I'm going to be tired after this."

"C'mon, no time to waste ladies," Mark said, taking hold of my hand and taking the first step.

Up and up we climbed, slowly circling and scaling the towering champagne bottle. It took just over an hour and we were tired at the end. The chocolate, honey and caramel were sticky and irritating. All three of us needed to wash ourselves in the champagne bath.

We walked along the last part of the narrow stairway and stopped close to the cork.

"Keep back," Mark said, "or the cork will kill us when we open the bottle."

Sister and I stayed back and watched, fearful for Mark.

"Be careful Mark," Sister said. I kissed her softly and she hugged me.

Mark walked up to the champagne cork and tapped his fist against it.

"Open," he commanded.

There was no sound for a second. Then there was a harsh squeak as the cork began to rub against its glass prison. Mark turned and ran back to us. All three of us watched from a distance as the cork slowly and inexorably sought its freedom.

Then bang!

The cork flew skyward, disappearing from sight and champagne exploded like a volcano, high into the air. It cascaded down the sides of the bottle in a sea of bubbles and rained down on us in sheets. A dense pale fog surrounded us.

"It reminds me of Mark's cum," Sister exclaimed. "God, I want him again."

"Easy, darling Sister," I said, thinking the exact same thing. I still hadn't been fucked yet.

"Wow, awesome," Mark said, running back along the narrow stairway. "Come and look you two!"

Sister and I ran after Mark. We arrived a moment later and gasped. We looked down into the open mouth of the bottle. A deep wide reservoir of champagne awaited us.

"How do you feel, are you ready," my son asked, smiling.

"Of course, let's do it. Are you ready Sister?"

"Yep."

The three of us took each other's hands in our own and backed up. We ran forward and with a loud scream leapt off the end of the staircase. We hung there for less than a second and then dropped, our screams filling our ears. We fell through the entrance to the bottle and hit the surface of the champagne feet first and then down and down we went.

The champagne washed the chocolate, caramel and honey away – they came off and left dark clouds behind us. We swam endlessly through the bubbly sizzling alcohol, trying to touch bottom. We held each other close and caressed each other. We kissed softly. We were in love.

I knew something was wrong with Sister, but I loved her. I looked at her and kissed her lips. I wouldn't let anyone hurt her or take her away. I was her mother and she was my daughter. We were human beings in love, despite everything.

We drifted down into the bottom of the bottle. Then the bottle tottered and fell. It broke into a million dazzling shards and fluid burst and flowed endlessly across the landscape. We were three tiny black figures in a curling tidal wave of champagne. The tsunami crashed. Then a second later we fell through the ground and were in the Negation. Then a second after that we were home.

The first day of our honeymoon was over. We had many more good days ahead of us. Surely, no trouble would come our way - we were in love.

PART FIVE – MY DREAM

Do you believe a pleasure model can really dream? Do you believe a pleasure model can really love? Do you believe a pleasure model can really feel fear?

Sometimes I think I was merely programmed to do these things, to feel these things. That's what I was told. Other times I just refused to believe I was programmed to do anything.

Last night I was lying asleep in Mark's arms and I dreamt I was living on Earth in the mid 20^th century. It was the most unusual sort of dream, but it illustrated my fears.

This is what I dreamt, as I recollect it:

The beautiful black woman sat down before the dark piano. She considered the keys for a moment, closed her eyes and sighed. She opened her eyes, looked up at the assembled audience and began to sing softly:

"I loves you, Porgy,

Don't let him take me

Don't let him handle me

And drive me mad

If you can keep me

I wanna stay here with you forever

And I'll be glad"

I pressed the end of a cigarette into a long black holder, placed the end between my lips, lit the tip and drew back. A fine stream of smoke curled upward in intricate circles to mingle and merge with the stale misty air. I looked up, exhaled and the delicate coils of smoke above me were blown to bits.

I watched the beautiful black woman sing – the woman's fingers brushed the keys and her voice was a sensitive and plaintive lament. The woman was in her own world. I closed my eyes, completely vulnerable to her music.

"Someday I know he's coming to call me

He's going to handle me and hold me

So, it's going to be like dying, Porgy

When he calls me

But when he comes I know I'll have to go"

I sat there at my table in the dark club, a glass of absinthe gleaming in front of me. The room was crowded, it was standing room only, but nobody made a sound. The tables around me were filled with mysterious and concealed people amidst the smoky murk. The bar was populated with brooding silhouettes framed by the shining opaque bottles, subdued lights and sooty wood. All eyes were on the singer.

"I loves you, Porgy,

Don't let him take me

Honey, don't let him handle me

and drive me mad

If you can keep me

I wanna stay here with you forever

I've got my man."

The song came softly to a close and the applause thundered in my ears. I joined in automatically, tears in my eyes. The beautiful black singer nodded gently and thanked her audience. I picked up my drink and drained it, my throat burning and my head spinning. I turned and looked around me - meeting the hungry eyes of several men. I was being studied and objectified, as I always was, when I went out and came into contact with men.

The beautiful black woman began her next song, but I was barely listening anymore.

"Love me, love me, say you do

Let me fly away with you

For my love is like the wind

And wild is the wind"

I was expecting to see him coming through the crowd towards me, but he wasn't there – where was Mark? He had promised me faithfully that he was going to meet me there at the club; he promised me that he wouldn't just run away or disappear. Where was he?

I began to grow anxious. I turned in my seat and scrutinised the crowded club for him, for my Mark. Dark hard faces with cold eyes turned towards me. Just as many more ignored me, absorbed in the music of the beautiful black singer – their faces glowing with rapt attention. I stood up and moved slowly through the crowd, my eyes running from face to face.

"Don't you know you're life itself

Like a leaf clings to a tree

Oh my darling, cling to me

For we're creatures of the wind

And wild is the wind

So wild is the wind"

I pushed my way through a forest of dark gloomy figures, amidst the haze of the smoky club, searching for Mark. I ended up standing in the centre of a tight throng of men, turning endlessly around and around, unable to move from the spot. The men were aware of me there. I felt their hands on me – running over me. A man pulled me into his arms. He kissed me and pushed his long tongue into my mouth. I broke the kiss and looked up at him. I looked at all of them. They were going to fuck me right then and there.

"Mark," I screamed.

I was out on the street. Black gleaming cars cruised slowly and silently by, as if their mute movements were animated by a dream motor. The sidewalk was filled with crowds of jostling marionettes, dressed in suits of charcoal grey and garments of striking colour. A parade of players blew into flashing belching horns, brandished shrieking whistles and bashed on tambourines and drums of all sorts, as they stepped down the wide flood lit street. Big women shook their heavy breasts and broad hips as they danced, men whooped and threw their hats in the air, and dark faced children with brilliant eyes ran through the crowds, holding long gold streamers.

I picked my way through, still searching for Mark. I walked past the darkened clubs on my right, their doors closed to me. I could just hear the sound of raunchy and harsh piano blues, blasting around the interior of the clubs, above the din of the jazz band marching down the street. I turned and watched a young man dancing down the middle of the parade, his head thrown back, his hand working a gleaming trombone, his noise loud and lively. The young man turned around and around on the spot, caught in that dreadful ghostly streetlight, a rather terrifying spectre. Then he marched on again.

I thought I saw Mark up ahead of me – a mere flash of pale colour against the crowd. He turned right into a building. I picked up my pace, pushing my way through the people before me. I attracted attention and figures stepped out of my way. I reached the door, which I was sure Mark had passed through just a minute before. I tried the worn brass handle, while regarding the smoky and cracked glass panel set in the middle of the crumbling door. The building seemed to yawn with a loud creak. I stepped inside.

I closed the door behind me. All outside sounds were instantly drowned out, sealed off entirely by a brooding silence which seemed to grow, reach out, and fill every nook and cranny with its oppressive character. I stood there looking down a long sullen corridor and my eyes ascended a narrow wooden staircase on my left. The silence was punctuated by the sudden sound of sharp footsteps above my head.

"Mark," I asked quietly, a horror slowly rising in me.