Lisa

I could see my words strike home. There was a flare of lust in her eyes at the thought of me sinking my cock into her friend's bowels, and her voice was husky and hesitant. 'I... I love the feeling of being taken,' she whispered. "Having someone inside me, doing what he wants, stabbing me, using me... squirting inside me -' she broke off suddenly, and gave a little self-conscious laugh. 'Christ - I'm getting horny just thinking about it.'

'Not as much as me.'

Her eyes flickered back to my crotch, lingering on the shape of my cock pressed against the denim. Her tongue flicked over her lips leaving them wet and shining.

'Have you ever done more than one person?' she asked.

'You mean at the same time - like a threesome?'

'Yeah.'

I shook my head. 'Only in my dreams. I'd imagine two tight little nubile chicks over me like a rash...bending over, taking turns. I'd like to -'

'I nearly did, once' she interrupted.

'What!? When -'

'A couple of months ago...when you were away. I met them at the pub - an Irish guy and his brother - Jesus, they were gorgeous! Just their accents made me want to bend over.' I could see she was thinking back, remembering. 'You know how it is when you just click with someone? Well, it was like that...a few laughs, a few jokes...just innocent stuff to begin with but then they started telling me how they shared things...shared everything, they said, and they made it clear that included women.'

'Christ, Lisa. I didn't know you were into that stuff.'

She smiled. 'As it turns out, I wasn't...but I don't mind telling you I was tempted.'

'Perhaps you should have done it then.' I could feel a tightness in my belly at the thought of my sister fucking two guys, and I felt my cock throbbing.

Lisa shrugged. 'Maybe. I'll never know. And maybe I'll regret it one day, when I'm married and wondering where the magic of my sex life went.' She laughed softly. 'I guess the moral of the story is that you should seize the chance because it may never come again.'

'So what would you have done if you'd gone with them?'

'Everything' she whispered. 'I would have used very orifice I had. There wasn't anything we couldn't have tried.' She closed her eyes, thinking about it and her fingers crept below the hem of her skirt.

'Tell me what the best bits would have been,' I said. My mouth was dry.

'The best bits?' She thought for a moment. 'I guess it would have been never knowing who was going to do what to you next...one moment there would be a cock inside my pussy and I would just getting used to it and then the other one would suddenly slide into me somewhere else and there'd be a whole new sensation.' She stopped suddenly and closed her eyes and her hand moved against herself, pressing up under her skirt, lifting the hem so I could see her little white panties. Her fingers were rubbing against them, moving rhythmically, and her breath hissed through her lips for a moment at the intensity of the sensation. 'I could have been a slut for the night,' she continued, and her voice was low and husky, filled with imaginings. 'Fucking two guys...and I didn't even know their names. Can you imagine how much fun I could have had?'

I envisaged Lisa's slim body, moving in slow motion as the two men took her. The glorious mane of hair swirling about her face and her breasts swinging rhythmically. Her mouth full of cock, slippery wet, dripping spit and love juice, and her body twitching as the other guy pumped into her. Her cunt stretched and her eyes suddenly wide as one of them took her in the ass.

'Jesus, I wish I'd been one of them.' My voice was thick with longing.

Lisa opened her eyes, the lids heavy and hooded, and I could see the flare of interest in them. 'What would you have done, Mike?' she whispered, 'If you'd been there? Tell me.'

'Joined in. I'd have joined in.' I watched her fingers pressing against her sex, lifting the gusset aside. A glimpse of dark curls in the shadow, gleaming wet; oozing, dripping. I could smell her, too - the sweet odour of her warm, aroused sex, thick in my nostrils. My cock was so hard I thought it would burst. God, she was beautiful! My beautiful little sister, talking to me about fucking. Playing with her tight little pussy right in front of me, with her eyes full of desire. All my dreams coming true.

'Would you, Michael?' she whispered. 'Would you have joined in?'

'God, yes. In a heartbeat.'

'Tell me,' she demanded. Her eyes were still on my face, the pupils dilated with booze and lust. 'Tell me how you would have fucked me.'

The picture in my brain shifted - her and me, just the two of us. Lisa on her knees, hair loose around her shoulders and the satin gloss of her skin shining in the flickering firelight as she looked over one shoulder. My delicious little sister with her knees apart and her buttocks thrust back, each cheek firm and clearly defined: perfect globes of warm, living flesh, framing the thick wet lips of her sex. My knob against them, rubbing, the tip burrowing between them to enter her tight little body. I imagined the rubbery grip of her vulva as I entered her. So fucking tight.

'Doggie,' I whispered. 'I'd fuck you doggie first...on your knees, bending over, taking me into your body. Christ, you'll be so tight! Fucking my sister.'

Lisa's breath hissed briefly at the image and her fingers rummaged deeper. I could hear the soft wet noise of her sex as she frigged herself, and her eyes on my crotch again to see the outline of my cock stretching the front of my jeans. I wondered if she noticed how I'd changed the tense. Not talking about what I would have done, but what I'd like to do.

'God yes...oh, yes, I'd like that, Mike,' she whispered. 'More... uh, tell me more. Touch your prick. Do it for me.'

I imagined my fingers easing aside the firm round globes of her ass, watching as my cock burrowed into her: the tight ring of her cunt stretched around me, oozing white cream as I fucked her. My knob huge and purple, disappearing up towards her belly. In my mind I touched the tight crinkled portal to her bowels and she twitched and moaned underneath me.

'I'm so fucking deep, Lisa. Can you feel me inside you? You're creaming me, and I've got my fingers in your ass. Fucking you...so deep. Jesus...you're so tight.' I reached down and unzipped myself, shucking open the belt and drawing out my shaft. A dribble of lubricant oozed from the tip, gleaming softly in the light, and I began to stroke it.

With a little cry Lisa flung herself at me, her lips pressing against mine. Her hands cupped my face and I could smell the delicious fragrance of cunt on her fingers. She thrust her tongue into my mouth and her teeth nibbled at my lips and she moaned into my mouth. My hands were on her waist, acknowledging the firmness of her flesh and the smooth curves of her hips, and I pulled her on top of me, feeling her weight, feeling how she moulded to me. Ah, Jesus God! My cock pressed against her mound, her body wriggling seductively, and then she lifted her mouth from mine and stared down at my face with her eyes dark with desire.

'So you would have fucked me, would you, big brother?' she whispered. 'Put your hard cock into your sister's pussy? Tut, tut! Nice brothers don't do that.' She shook her head and the curtain of glossy scented hair brushed over my face. 'Are you a nice brother, Michael, or can you be bad?' Her hips moved in a hard little circle, rubbing against me, pressing down on the logjam in my pants, and she giggled softly. 'Would you have fucked me?' she said. 'Would you?'

The last two words hung on her lips and I glanced at her sharply. Were they part of our fantasy talk or an invitation? Her eyes were on mine but they were inscrutable, the pupils dark as obsidian. For a few moments we stared at each other and then her fingers slid over my belly to grasp my shaft, and she moaned again in her throat - a little purring sound like a cat. 'So would you fuck me, Michael?' she asked again.

I pulled her head down and our mouths met again. Kisses as hot as coals - her lips burning, pressed hard against mine, her tongue playing, slippery and urgent, pressing into my mouth. She moaned again, deep in her throat. 'Ah, Jesus,' she whispered. 'Fuck, Michael...what are we doing?' and her mouth pressed against mine again before I could answer. My senses were full of her: the taste of her mouth and the way she moved against me, breasts pressed hard against my chest and her hips undulating in a parody of the act. God I needed her! The time for talking was done and so I reached up and pulled her dress over her head and her breasts sprang free, the tips thick and stiff, and they swung languorously as she moved. Her nipples were as hard as pebbles and I sucked them, one and then the other, nibbling at them like ripe raspberries in my mouth. Ah, Lisa, Lisa! Your tits in my mouth and your hand on my cock and your lips crushed against mine, and only the gossamer threads of your little white panties between my straining cock and your grasping little cunt! A wave of white hot desire surged through me, a desperate need to be inside her - to feel the cloying grasp of her pussy as it stretched around my shaft. God help me, I was going to fuck my sister.

But she wanted to play first. She suddenly slid back along the sofa and her hands seized me, lifting the shaft. Her hands so small and white against the swollen flesh. Fingers curled around me, grasping, squeezing. She watched with hooded eyes as a fresh dribble of juice oozed from the tip and she moaned at the sight, and as I watched she bent and took me into her mouth.

How many times have I remembered that moment? A million, perhaps? The indescribable feeling of her warm, wet lips engulfing my knob, gripping it as it popped into her mouth - and then the long glide upwards into the narrow confines of her throat. I'd made out with a few girls in my time but none even came close to the sheer fucking eroticism of watching my cock slip into my sister's face. I could see her lips stretched around me and the beads of spit and love juice oozing at their corners, and her Adam's Apple moving - gulping, almost, as she tried to take the full length. I remember staring down at her, trying to capture the little snapshots of what she was doing: how she turned her face slightly as my cock slid out so the soft inside of her cheek rubbed against me; the way her lips gripped the bulbous head for a moment before it bobbed free; how small her fingers looked, curled around the base; and how she flicked her tongue over the stretched, purple flesh before opening her mouth to engulf me again.

And all the time her calm brown eyes were on mine, watching, watching as I gasped and groaned at the exquisite sensation, a gleam of laughter in their toffee-coloured depths at the thought of how easily she'd taken control. I'm usually the bossy one but suddenly it all changed. I was putty in her hands - a complete puppet, twitching and groaning as her mouth and lips and little white teeth worked on me. I remember telling her how great it was, how much pleasure I was getting, and how I loved her...but she didn't answer. How could she, with her mouth full of my cock? In the soft light from the coffee table lamp she looked so beautiful, crouching over me with her hair around her face and her slim body rocking back and forth. I wanted to fuck her then, but I couldn't stop what she was doing for a single moment, and so she took me to where she wanted to go.

The need to cum started deep in my balls, a tingle at first, and then a tightening ache, spiraling upwards like the birth of a tsunami: like the ocean being sucked back off the beach to gather into a growing, uncontrollable force. I groaned at the sensation and my hands reached up to pluck at her head, and my voice was broken.

'Jesus, Lisa...ah, fuck! I'm close...God - stop! I'll cum into your mouth. Stop -'

But she didn't. Her tongue swirled around the head as it slid back and forth in her mouth, and her eyes were on mine, willing me to fill her, waiting for the storm. Her fingers tightened on the base of my rod, gripping hard, and the spiral of my pleasure grew, spinning upwards, seizing my mind and my senses until there was nothing else except my cock and the soft, wet warmth of her mouth sucking me into the back of her throat.

The heat and the tightness suddenly tripped me over the edge and I came. The soft subdued lighting in the room flared brightly, a searing white that illuminated every detail of her face, shot through with flashes of bright colour as my brain exploded in ecstasy. The first surge of cum burst into her mouth, a fountain of hot salty fluid spraying into her, coating the walls of her mouth, and I heard her cry out in surprise. She jerked my cock free and a second jet splattered over her face - a long streak of opal over the smooth golden skin of her cheek and the dark pool of one eye; and then a third, even stronger, streaking over her forehead to lie in sparkling creamy drops in her thick mane of hair. It seemed to go on and on, and I saw how she moved my shaft over her face and how the long ribbons drenched her mouth and cheeks and nose, gathering in long ropes on her chin, mixing with the dribble of jism leaking from her open lips.

And at last the storm ended and colour and form returned, and Lisa was silent, staring into the room with her mouth open, an expression of shock on her face. I could see traces of my sperm on her lips and tongue, and the shiny enamel of her teeth was dulled by it. Globs of cum were caught in her hair like glistening pearls, and a rope of jism hung from her chin like bizarre jewelry, spinning slowly, shining in the light. Jesus...the light! A hard, bright light that filled the room where before there had been only the soft glow of a table lamp; and Lisa was captured in its glare like a deer in the headlights of a hunters truck, her eyes shocked and staring and her mouth agape as she stared across the room towards the door.

And in that instant of awareness I heard the sudden gasp behind me and I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt, that it was them...my parents - our parents, home early; and that nothing, nothing in the whole world would ever make them understand what they had just seen. I knew, without even looking, what the expression on my mother's face would be - horror and disgust and loathing as she'd watched her daughter with her mouth stretched around her son on her sofa, in her house, and his rampant cock spraying and splattering long jets of scalding seed over her little girl's eager face.

And there was nothing I could do. Lisa leaped off me and ran from the room, her breasts bobbing and a strange keening sound coming from her mouth, and I just lay there, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again. I tried to sink into the sofa. I prayed to God to swallow me up into the earth, but of course He didn't, and I heard the heavy footsteps of my father as he strode towards me to throw me out - this interloper in his house, as yet unrecognized; and I watched as he realised who and was, and his world collapsed.

A sudden shout of laughter disturbed my thoughts and I looked over at the group sat near the window beyond the bar. Four younger people, eighteen or nineteen perhaps, their faces happy and shining. I doubted if they had ever been burdened with shame and disgrace as we had been - why should they have been? It had been six years since that day, but it had changed everything. Six years of exile from love and respect and, for me at least, six years of worrying about Lisa, hoping that she could forgive me for what I'd done.

I picked up my beer and sipped it, thinking about her lying asleep not far from where I sat. For the first time in six years we would spend the night together under one roof with no other family around. I thought of the double bed and how nice it would be to spoon up to her, to kiss the back of her neck and perhaps do more, but I knew the chances of that were zip. At least I'd be able to speak to her, which was more than had happened in the last six years. It wasn't that she'd avoided me or anything: she was just - well, distant, I suppose. As if she'd built this fucking great emotional wall between us that filtered out anything remotely intimate.

I wondered too about her husband, Chris. He seemed a nice enough guy, if you liked them vanilla with the personality of a doorknob. She'd met him a year or so after that night and it had been a whirlwind romance and a quick wedding. God knew if they were happy - she never said much about him and there didn't seem to be any magic in the union. I sometimes thought that she'd married him just to get away, to put another wall between the present and the past. Walls behind walls...there didn't seem much hope of ever getting close to her again.

And then the barman came over and gave me the phone, and it was Lisa telling me she was awake.

*****************

Hannah Rosenberg awoke to the front door slamming as her husband left for work. She often reminded him to be quiet but somehow he always forgot, and so every morning the bedroom reverberated and the pictures hung crooked on the walls until she dutifully straightened them before going downstairs.

Hannah lay in the warmth of her bed for a few minutes, thinking fondly of him. Her parents had moved to Eglington when she was just six, taking a vacant house in a leafy street not far from the centre of town. The house opposite was bigger than theirs with a large sign on the front gate: Benjamin J. Rosenberg, Plumber and Gasfitter and within a few weeks the Solomons and the Rosenbergs became firm friends because they were neighbours and of the same church, and each had a single child.

And so little Hannah Solomon had grown up with Gideon Rosenberg - a pale and rather shy boy three years her senior who was socially stunted by the cloying love of his over-protective mother to the point where he was devoid of any friends. The introduction of the dark-eyed little waif into his life was welcome, and they became inseparable to the point that everyone knew they were destined for one other.

Gideon qualified as a plumber not long after his 20th birthday and they were married soon afterwards. Ben Rosenberg's present was to make his son a partner in his business and to lend him the company van for their honeymoon and Ruth Rosenberg presented Hannah with a croqueted christening gown in a not-so-subtle hint of what she expected of the union; and after a flurry of hugs and tearful farewells the young couple disappeared for three days to a quiet holiday resort not far from where they lived.

Hannah smiled when she remembered the first night of their married life. She had been nervous, of course, but it quickly became evident that Gideon was equally so. The brief coupling that consumed their virginities was awkward, but had gradually improved so by the time they came home each wore a glow of sexual awareness. Now, just a year later, Gideon had developed to the point where he was aggressive in his bedroom activity and Hannah, who was naturally passive, was beginning to wonder where it would end.

But she was happy. Gideon was a hard worker and planned to do much with his life, and if the cost was long working hours and a little worry about his sexual appetite, wasn't it all worth it? The deposit for their first house was growing and they had talked about starting a family in the New Year, and Hannah had a part time job in the newsagent that paid enough for the groceries. Sometimes Gideon didn't get home until late and so she'd recently started studying in the evening with the hope of becoming a Pharmacist, and she knew with absolute certainty that their lives were on the right road and success and comfortable living would follow.