Lisa

But I didn't. I kissed her lightly on the forehead and pulled back the bedclothes and rolled her into bed, and covered her up. She'd be a mess in the morning and I didn't want the hassle and besides, I wanted her to want me, and not take her when she was drunk.

And so I lay in that bed with my arm around her, listening to her breathing in the dark little room, and I pressed myself against her with only her little panties between us, and I wondered how I could be so close to her and yet so far away.

And after a little while I slept.

*****

Sixty miles away Christopher John Walker, shopkeeper, rugby player and husband to my sister, drained the last of his beer and regarded the young girl sitting opposite him.

He'd told Lisa he was away on business but the rain saved him the trouble for he knew the road would be blocked and she wouldn't get home; and so he'd gone to one of the local pubs, confident that nobody would know him and hoping that the night might bring something a little better than the hard-eyed divorcees he normally pulled. And it looked like his luck was in, for the girl he had found was clearly different.

She was a pretty little thing: a brunette with a bob of hair cut short around her neat little ears and a pixie face that smiled easily, even if her eyes did not. He'd seen her sitting a bar stool earlier in the evening and had struck up a conversation, and after a while she'd joined him at a table. They'd talked about the town and her job and what he was doing on the road but they were just words, for each of them understood that before the night was done he would take her upstairs.

Now the conversation had dried up and she sat and waited. This was the first time she'd done this and she was nervous, but she could see he was clean and well spoken and although she thought he might be married he would serve her purpose as well as any other.

He set down his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'So we could go upstairs if you wanted,' he said. 'I've booked a room.'

She nodded, her eyes on his face. She had wondered why he was in a pub when his home was so close, and realised that he was seeking women for gratification, just as her husband did every day. The knowledge that this man was a sexual predator made what she was going to do so much easier.

Chris took her hand and led her up the stairs, fumbling with the keys before opening the door. She glanced around quickly: a simple room with a double bed with a small table next to it, a dresser and a wardrobe unit. A door led off to one side, which she supposed was to an ensuite bathroom.

'Um - do you want another drink?' he asked. 'There's a mini bar.'

The girl nodded and set her handbag carefully on the bedside table, watching as he turned away to the bar fridge. She opened the bag quickly and pressed the button on the little camera to start it, moving it slightly to make sure it captured the room. The bag's rim was decorated with glass beads and the lens was virtually indistinguishable, and she knew its field of view would easily cover the bed. She stood back just as he turned towards her.

Chris handed her a glass. 'Uh...I forgot your name,' he said.

'Hannah.'

'Well, Hannah, here's to us...to tonight.'

She took the glass and raised it. 'Cheers.' The liquor was neat and she gasped slightly as it burned her throat before filling her belly with warmth. She set the empty glass down and turned to him.

'I'll turn out the light,' he said.

'No, no, leave it.' She lifted her face to his and kissed him, her lips soft. 'I want to see us.'

Chris watched her undress. She was much smaller than Lisa in every way, with tiny breasts and curves that were barely pronounced, and the little cupcake buttocks balanced above her thighs were firm and round and devoid of fat. With her short hair and slender figure she looked almost boyish but for the cleft between her legs. She had carefully shaved her pubic hair so her vulva was fully exposed, the labia so small that her sex resembled a slit rather than a fleshy opening. The juxtaposition of boyishness and pubescent girlhood stirred him and Chris felt his cock harden rapidly.

'How old are you, Hannah?' he asked.

'Nineteen last August.'

He nodded, her word good enough for him. 'You're beautiful.'

She watched as he shed his clothes and she lifted her face to kiss him. His hands held her gently and his lips were much softer than Gideon's. Despite her empty heart she felt her sex moisten in anticipation and she drew herself towards him, feeling the heat of his rigid cock as it pressed hard against her belly, and her nervousness vanished.

It was so much easier than she had imagined. She knew the video must capture as much detail as possible, so she was careful to position herself. She kneeled on the bed with her bottom angled toward the camera and watched his eyes roaming over the slightness of her body and the tiny roundness of each cheek. In her mind she could see what the camera saw: her slender form in passive surrender, legs apart to reveal the tight crevice between them and her face turned to capture the moment of penetration; the man's cock, bobbing and rampant, the tip engaging and his eyes watching, watching, as he pressed forward. She felt her tightness resisting and she pushed back, gasping as the bulbous head crowned into her, followed by the slippery rush of his shaft reaching up toward her womb. Her fingers crept back to hold her buttocks apart to better reveal the image: his rod embedded in her crack and her face smiling as she fucked this stranger in the shabby little room.

'You're tight,' he whispered. His fingers felt rough against her skin and she felt his eyes roaming over her. 'You're so fucking tight.'

His words stirred her and she twisted her face to look back at his. 'Tell me what you see,' she whispered, 'and what you want to do.'

'I see my cock inside you.'

'Yes! Tell me.'

'You're so small,' he said. 'It's...it's stretching you.'

'Pull it out and tell me what you see.'

Chris withdrew his shaft, watching as the glistening head emerged from the girl's body. Her vulva gaped wet and pink for a moment before the flesh crimped closed.

She remembered to talk like a slut. 'Am I wet for you?'

'You are. Wet and ready.' His cock at the entrance again, the shaft shining with her juice as it slid back inside, and he grunted at her tightness. 'Ah, Christ Hannah! Fuck, that's good! Is it good for you too?'

'I love it. I love fucking with you.'

The room was filled with the sound of their union: the wet slap of flesh as he pounded into the slender body and their gasps and groans of pleasure. Each thrust jerked her forward and the bed squeaked loudly so she pulled away and whirled around to kneel before him.

'Lift me,' she demanded. 'Fuck me standing.'

He scooped up her slender body, feeling her legs encircle his waist and her face press into the hollow of his neck. His cock was pressed against her sex and he adjusted it, gasping as it popped back into her warmth, and he cupped each buttock to raise and lower her onto his rampant shaft.

'Move towards the light,' she whispered. 'I want to see us in the mirror.'

He carried her to the bedside table and her sex filled the camera's image: it saw the light froth on the lips of her cunt and his thickness as he slid between them, and it captured his hands cupped around each tiny buttock, his fingers curled close to the point of their union. She gasped as one fingertip touched her anus, and she twisted her face to the camera.

'God, yes! Put your finger in my ass!'

Chris regarded their image in the mirror: the slender white figure in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist. He slipped the tip of one finger into her rectum, the cloying warmth an additional stimulus, and he pressed his tongue into her mouth. He could see and feel her body accepting him threefold: his cock and his fingers and his tongue. She was so small that he wondered if each would somehow meet in the middle, and the notion that he could so completely possess her triggered the start of his orgasm.

'Jesus, Hannah...I'm going to cum,' he gasped. He felt her tighten her pussy in response and the rush of his semen accelerated.

'Do it,' she said. 'Cum into me. Let me suck your seed into my body.' She swiveled her hips and clasped her cunt tighter, feeling the muscles in his body tighten as he reached for the pinnacle. 'Ah...ah, yes, let it go, honey.'

With a hoarse cry, Chris spurted into the girl. The camera captured the throbbing of his cock and the fluttering of her pussy as it accepted the spattering ribbons of his seed, and it heard her tremulous words. 'That's it! Yes...God, yes! I can feel it...yes, yes...spurting thick inside me...ah, fuck, so deep inside.'

After a while the twitching bodies in front of its little glass eye grew still. It watched as the man's cock slipped free of her body and it saw the whiteness of his sperm dribbling from between the puffy wet lips. And later still it heard the snores of the man lost in slumber, and it saw Hannah's hand put the money into her bag before she picked it up and tiptoed from the room.

*

It was late when Gideon Rosenberg let himself into the house. He'd expected Hannah to be there but it was dark and he spent a few minutes searching for her before finding the envelope propped up on the hall table. He tore it open and saw it contained nothing except a small thumb drive.

The image on his computer flickered once or twice before his wife's face appeared. She was sat in the lounge room and she addressed the camera without smiling, and her words hammered into his skull like the blows of a tradesman's hammer. I know...about Judy and Cassie and Dora...about your fucking, about your betrayal, and this is what you get. The image shifted to a room, and he perceived Hannah there, drinking with a man, and he watched as she shed her clothes and went to him. He saw the thick cock sliding into his wife's body and he heard her cries of pleasure, and he watched her laughing face as she offered herself, and the pain and anger washed through his brain in waves. Hannah, little Hannah, fucking in a hotel room like a cheap whore: the one who was always there for him, the one who was his. He saw the man's organ, twitching as it unloaded into her slender body and he watched as the sperm oozed from his wife's slit, and he thought his heart would break.

The image of the room faded and Hannah's face appeared, her voice like jagged shards of glass. 'So you reap what you sew, Gideon,' she said. 'Trust works both ways, and if you can fuck around, so can I.' An expression of sadness flicked over her face for a moment, but then the scorn and anger returned. 'I've left you, Gideon,' she said. 'It's over. Don't ever try and speak to me again,' and the screen faded to black.

It only took a moment to check she had gone. The cupboards were bare and the drawers were empty and even the pictures of her on the dresser had disappeared. It was as if every trace of her life with him had been erased, and there were only the images on the little thumb drive to remind him of who she had been and what she had become.

For a long time he sat, lost in misery and regret, and then a sudden thought occurred to him. He replayed the video, watching with a beating heart, and he paused it at a particular point.

The frozen image of the man's face stared at him through the camera's lens, and Gideon felt a surge of hatred, for he knew him. It's Chris Walker. Chris Walker, who played rugby at his local club. Chris Walker, who had drunk beer with him and his mates and laughed at their jokes and sung their rugby songs. Chris Walker, with his face screwed up in pleasure as he fucked Hannah, his beautiful wife.

*****

I woke to find Lisa watching me with her molten brown eyes.

'Good morning, sleepyhead.'

She was bright and alert, and the shadows that had been under her eyes for the past week had disappeared. 'You surprise me,' I said. ' I thought you'd have the mother of all hangovers this morning.'

'Nope. Not even a hint of one. You, on the other hand, look like you were dragged through a hedge backwards.'

'It's sperm build up,' I replied, wondering if I could keep a straight face. 'If I don't have sex regularly it builds and builds until it eventually it fills my head and I get a headache.'

Lisa's eyes crinkled in amusement. 'Ha, ha! Then I'm guessing you have a constant headache.'

'I do, I do.'

'You must have blood build up too, judging by the woody that was poking in to my back half the night.' She moved her hand quickly to brush my groin, a fleeting touch before snatching her fingers back to her side of the bed. 'Jesus! That's some swelling there...so what are you going to do about it?'

The touch of my sister's fingers caused me to harden even more. 'A more sensible question would be what are you going to do about it.'

'Sounds like a personal problem. Nothing to do with me.'

'Actually, it's everything to do with you.'

Lisa laughed, a few musical notes that reminded me of the old days. 'Nice try, buster, but you're still my brother and the answer's still no.'

'I'll renounce brotherhood. I'm happy to be whoever you want me to be for the next hour or so.'

'Kind thought, but genetics are genetics and I'm still married.'

'Then renounce your vows - but do it quickly.' I regarded her expression. 'You're not convinced, are you?'

'Not a bit. Your problem, your solution.'

'So you'd have me relieve myself solo? That's pretty sad.'

'Not at all. I do it all the time. If you feel the need, go for your life.'

My hand slid to my cock and encircled it, enjoying its rigidity and warmth. 'I might just do that.' I regarded her. 'Aren't you going to get out of my bed to give me a bit of privacy?'

She shook her head. 'Actually it's my bed, and you're in it with no clothes on for reasons I don't quite understand. If you want privacy the bathroom is that way.'

'I can't walk - my ankles are full of spunk too.'

'Then your situation is clearly desperate, and there's not a second to be lost. You'll have to relieve yourself here.' Her eyes were still on my face, as bright as a Squirrel's, and I suddenly understood she was just as horny as me. 'Just pretend you're on your own.'

'You're going to watch? Isn't that contrary to your marriage vows?'

'Window shopping is fine, Mike. Sampling the goods is not.'

'Ah - right.' My hand was moving, sliding up and down the shaft under the bedclothes. The thought of my little sister watching me stroke myself was a powerful stimulant and I knew it wouldn't take long. But what was she going to do?

I found out a moment later when she seized the bedclothes and flung them back, her eyes seeking out the plum-coloured head of my cock four fingers' width from the grip of my hand, and the eye oozing a thin stream of lubricant over the hot purple flesh. For a moment her eyes widened and then her eyelids closed slightly to give the hooded expression I remembered so well, and the breath hissed from between her teeth.

'He's just like I remember,' she whispered.

'Hardly used since then. Are you sure -'

'I'm sure.' A moment's hesitation. 'Do it for me, Mike, and I'll do it for you,' she whispered, 'but no touching.' She wriggled across the bed and lay beside me, looking down at me as I played with myself. Her hair cascaded over my shoulder in a fragrant cloud and her free hand slid under the elastic of her panties, the wrist undulating slowly.

'Tell me what you're thinking,' she murmured.

'About you...about that night.'

'What about it? Tell me!'

'How you took me in your mouth and how your lips looked stretched around me. I've never forgotten...I never will. It excites me just to think about it.'

She was silent for a few moments and wondered if I'd misjudged what she wanted. I guess my mind was trying to catch up with the sudden turn of events, too: last night she'd made it clear that intimacy was unwelcome but suddenly she was enticing me to play with my cock while she watched. So what was going on? And did she really want me to tell her what I was thinking? Skillfully painted words whispered between two people was a heartbeat away from doing them, and I wondered how that would fit into the boundaries she had set.

'Did I do it right?' she whispered at length.

'It was perfect...perfect.' It had been too: the soft wetness of her mouth moving, moving, sliding back and forth on the shaft. Spit and love juice escaping from the corners to dribble over her chin and hang in slimy strands; the tightness of her throat as she took me in deep, and then the fluttering tongue as it lapped my glans. I remembered how slim her hand had looked as it gripped the hard, suffused flesh of my cock, and the brightness of her eyes as they watched my face.

'How would you have fucked me, Mike? Tell me what you would have done.' A green light to go ahead. Window shopping and explicit descriptions, then. My cock swelled even harder.

'Doggie,' I whispered, and my brain was filled with the image. My sister crouching, bending forward over the arm of a chair with her legs apart and the tight little cheeks of her butt thrust back. The light shining on the wet gash between those perfect thighs and her fingernails a delicate shade of pink as she drew her lips apart. 'I'd have fucked you doggie.'

'Tell me,' she demanded again, and her voice was breathless. I could hear the soft sound of her pussy as her fingers moved over it, and the image of how it might look caused a fresh dribble of juice to leak from the eye of my cock. My fist moved faster, the foreskin sliding back and forth to smear it over the hot, purple flesh.

'You're bent over the chair,' I whispered. 'The big one by the telly, and you're holding your cheeks apart. I'm behind you, Lisa, looking down at what you're showing me...your tight little pussy, the lips stretched wide and the flesh soft and wet and pink, and your little star above it. I crouch down and put my mouth over you, my tongue sliding, sliding, dipping into the hollow to flicker over it...then down to taste your cream.'

'God yes! Your tongue on my ass...on my pussy. Lap it...taste me.' Her fingers were moving quicker now, the fabric of her pants pulled aside so I could see the soft brown hairs peeping.

'I am, I am. You're like a river, Lisa, streaming juice into my mouth.' The image so real I can almost taste the flavour of her syrup on my lips.

'Fuck me now, Mike. Put your cock into me.' For a moment I thought it was an invitation but her fingers were still there, rummaging into her streaming crack. I closed my eyes and imagined.

'Are you on the pill, Lisa?'

'No, no. I've never done anything like this before.'

The image of her little rosebud fills my mind, small and clean and pink. 'Then I'll take you in the ass,' I whisper. 'Have you ever been fucked there before?'

'God, no!' her voice a silent cry of longing and I feel the thrum of her fingers under the elastic of her knickers, bringing her climax closer. My own cum is building somewhere in my brain, still in a dark corner but expanding as I paint the imagery.

'Your butt hole is wet from my spit, Lisa. I can see little bubbles of it in the wrinkles and a pool over its opening, and I hold the tip of my cock against it. Can you feel that?'

'Ah, yes,' she moans. 'Push it into me.'

'I am, I am. I can see you trying to resist me...it's so tight! But I'm leaning into you, the head of my cock pressed hard against your ring and I'm holding your hips and there's nowhere else to go but forward. And then, suddenly, your sphincter opens and I pop into you.' I glanced at her face. 'Look at my cockhead, Lisa...can you imagine how it feels inside your ass? Your ring clenched around it, throbbing as I stretch you? You're so fucking tight, Lisa...can you feel it?