Molly's Passion Ch. 03

His guard down is post-orgasm serenity, my brother Bart let slip our darkest family secret: that making love to his daughter was not his first foray into incest. Once that was out, he told her everything. I understand, Molly has that effect on me, too.

But you'd better hear it from me, because Molly wasn't my first time with a close relation, either. For both Bart and me, the occasion was our sister Beatrice's eighteenth birthday, so many years ago.

It started out innocently enough. This happened back in more civilized days, when the legal drinking age was 18. Beatrice's birthday is in early July, and she was already taking advantage of the summer sun when I got home from my summer job in the mid-afternoon.

What a magnificent sight she was, lying on the chaise lounge, reading by the side of the pool, just beyond the shade of the trees and thick hedge that ran along the edge of our property.

Beatrice's luscious long legs glistened with sunblock. She wore a tight black bikini that complemented her waist-length black hair, and that also showed how tightly she could pack a bra.

Beatrice got her face from Mom's side of the family, rare violet eyes, a fine sharp nose, and thin pink lips. That view of her gave me the first serious thought of what she might be like in bed. We were alone in the house and our parents wouldn't be home from work for at least two hours. I felt myself getting hard for her.

But I put that thought aside; I still paid attention to society's rules then. Instead, I donned my swim trunks, grabbed a towel, a pair of champagne flutes, and a bottle of Great Western from the basement refrigerator. I draped the towel over my arm, concealing the flutes and wine.

"Happy birthday, Sis!" I announced as I joined her by the pool. With a flourish, I revealed what I'd brought.

"Oh, Bert, how nice," she said. "I was planning to have some with the birthday cake, but …"

"Why wait?" I replied. "Today, you're legal."

"In more ways than one," she said, and I felt a twitch in my groin.

But she didn't pursue the thought any further. I popped the cork, and some of the champagne burst into the air and drizzled down the side of the bottle.

"How phallic," my sister said as I poured.

"You seem to have cock on the brain," I said boldly.

"Maybe I do."

My hands started to tremble as we toasted her budding adulthood and sipped our champagne, much to Beatrice's amusement. Here I was, the wiser and more experienced older brother, and my little sister was deliberately tying me into knots. My cock was fully awake now, and thinking about possibilities.

"Do you have a new boyfriend we don’t know about?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing like that," she said, "it's just that I'm a legal adult now, and I haven't even-- should I be telling you this?"

"If we were on the phone, I'd be asking what you're wearing about now."

She laughed. "But you're my brother."

"But you're beautiful."

Beatrice poured another glass and downed half of it in one gulp. Now she seemed nervous, steeling herself for something.

"I don't know anything about men," she said at last. "The guys in high school are such geeks, and now I'm going to college in the fall and I'm going to be completely at sea socially. What do I do?"

I poured myself another glass. "So you want me to show you what to do if things get … intimate?"

Now she blushed.

"I don’t know what I was thinking," she said.

"Did I say no?"

"Bert, you're not serious!"

"Are you?"

Beatrice finished her champagne, poured a little more. She stared at me for a moment, and then got an eyeful of the throbbing mass in my trunks.

"I'm going in," she said, rising.

Beatrice was so lissom, sleek and slender, but I noticed her trembling despite the warm sunshine. Her dive into the water was as graceful as a dolphin's. I took advantage of her distraction to make a couple of adjustments and dove into the pool next to her.

"Wow," she said, coming to the surface. "My head's swimming."

"Come here," I said, taking her by the arm and pulling her close.

"Bert--"

I stopped her with a kiss. Her eyes bulged in surprise, but I was able to stand and envelop her in my arms.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said softly when I broke the kiss.

"Are you sure?"

This time, she let my tongue into her mouth, and her arms tightened around my neck. This time, she snuggled close to me, and her head suddenly snapped back in shock.

"Bert! You're naked!"

I laughed. My trunks were drying on the deck, and my dick lay hard against her belly, only a thin layer of cloth away from bliss.

"You should be, too," I replied, pulling the string on her bikini top. As it floated away, Beatrice's middling-sized boobs bobbed in the water. I folded my hand over one as she writhed in my arms.

"Jesus, Bert, what--"

I stopped her with another kiss. By now she was thrashing in the water, rubbing her pussy against my cock, and moaning. I took a chance and loosened my grip.

Now Beatrice looked at me intently and said, "You can't stop now!"

With that, I tugged the lower half of her bikini off, and now we were both naked in the pool. I dug my fingers into her round ass cheeks and rubbed her cunt along my cock. This time she kissed me.

Gently now, I found the entrance to her pussy and stayed there for a moment, giving her an opportunity to feel my cock before I shoved it into her.

"Don't wait, dammit!" she breathed.

I lowered my lovely little sister down my pulsating shaft. Beatrice winced as I stretched, then snapped, her hymen. She emitted a sharp cry and blood stained the water. I held her close for a moment, giving her a chance to get used to me.

"Give it a minute, Bea," I said. "It'll feel much better in a moment."

"Oh, yes," she sighed as the stinging pain subsided and a look of pleasure crossed her face. Now she wrapped her legs around my waist, and I stood stock-still in the water as my sister bounced and jiggled on my long, stiff shaft.

I let her run free, loving the sight of her boobs splashing in the water, her long hair waving on the surface as she thrashed her body against mine. We kissed and licked each other's face for the longest time, until sheer heavy breathing took over.

"Oh, Bert," she gasped. "I think I'm going to come!"

Now I began to move inside her, bouncing her tight, energetic ass in my hands even as she mewled like a kitten and twisted her body around mine.

Suddenly her head snapped back and she let out a passionate animal cry. Beatrice's pussy contracted around my cock, making me cry out as well.

"Now!" she snapped.

I let my aching balls go, filling my sister's pussy with hot sperm. Again and again I fired into her, stunned by the amazing miracle that it was my little sister dancing on my dick.

Beatrice locked her legs tighter around me and squeezed her cunt for one last blast, and then she fell against my chest, spent. I reluctantly let her go, relieved that the blood and our mingled juices were dissipating in the water. We retrieved our garments and lay next to each other on chaise lounges, letting the sun warm our bodies.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"That's pretty much up to you," I said, kissing her hand. "Personally, I'd like to teach you everything I know. I want to make love to you morning, noon and night. How do you feel?"

"Happy," she replied, "but you know we could get into really deep trouble."

"Not if we keep it a secret."

We looked at each other for a long, loving moment, and then shared a kiss. That's when we heard Dad's car in the driveway.

***

Two days later, Beatrice was gone.

She left a terse note about being 18 and emancipated, that she was paying her way through college, and not to try to find her.

We never had a second tryst, and at first I thought guilt and shame and the magnitude of what we had done had overwhelmed her. I blamed myself for weeks, and then I found the tapes.

My brother Bart is the electronics whiz in the family, and his room was crammed with computers, musical instruments, recording gear and video equipment. I went in to steal a blank videotape for a movie that was running while I was at work. Bart never cleaned up, and as I searched around the mess, I spotted a very provocative title handwritten on a label: "Pussy in the Pool."

My heart in my throat, I popped it into Bart's VCR, confirming my worst fears. The little bastard had videotaped us.

I have to admit it had a powerful erotic effect on me, watching the whole thing over again, but at a distance. Bart caught most of it, starting the tape at about the time I shed my trunks.

Bart shot in one continuous take, mostly keeping the camera on Beatrice, her moans and sighs, and those great little boobs that splashed around as ground our groins together. Luckily, he was too far away to catch anything we said, but the images were sharp and clear and damning.

But next to that tape was another, labeled "My Turn, Vol. 1." It scared me even more.

Bart had set his camera up at a wide angle featuring the length of his bed in the middle of the frame. He was sitting on it, wearing only shorts. Beatrice entered the room on screen right, wearing a bathrobe and carrying a towel.

"What is it?" she said. "I was about to take a shower."

"I've got something you need to see," he said, and pressed a button on the remote control. The TV set just inside the frame glowed, and I could tell from the shocked and terrified expression on Beatrice's face what tape she was watching.

"You son of a bitch!" she barked. "Erase that at once! Give it to me!"

"Maybe," he replied. "Maybe I will if you give me some of what you gave Bert."

"You asshole," she said.

"Or maybe I should pop this in when Mom wants to watch a soap opera?"

"You wouldn't!"

Bart pulled his shorts down, letting his cock free. I noticed it was about an inch or so shorter than mine, but every bit as eager to dive into our sweet little sister.

"How about it?"

Beatrice froze. Bart crawled to the end of the bed and took her by the arm. Beatrice resisted at first, but Bart was the stronger, and he pulled her down next to him. He took her hand and closed her fingers around his cock.

"Do you know how many nights I've been laying here, jacking off to the thought of fucking you?" he said. "Then I see you giving it to him! Him! Do you know what that agony is?"

"Please don't make me," Beatrice pleaded, even as she began to stroke his cock.

"That's it, little sister."

"Is this all you want?"

"Hell no."

With that, Bart parted her robe, and it slid off. Beatrice's back was to the camera, and she stopped jacking Bart off long enough to let her robe fall to the floor. He started to feel her all over then, biting her tits and neck, roughly groping her pussy. I realized I hadn't seen her bush, because it was under water the whole time I had her naked. It was thick and hairy and inviting, but Bart was a man possessed.

Despite herself, Beatrice was beginning to respond. Her hand moved faster on his cock, her eyes were closed, her lovely face smooth and dreamy.

"How about a little head?" he asked.

"No …"

But Bart put both his hands behind Beatrice's head and guided her face down to his cock. Tears on her face now, Beatrice took the head into her mouth.

"You can do better than that," Bart said sternly.

Down her face went, obscured by her long, flowing tresses. All I could see on the tape was her head bouncing up and down in short little bobs, her long, black hair dancing, but Bart's face glazed over.

Suddenly Beatrice's head came up, fast. Large droplets flew into the air as Bart came all over her face and tits.

"Jesus!" he cried. "Don't stop now!"

Beatrice pounded and squeezed his cock with her tiny tanned fist, getting more. Then, letting Bart go, she reached for her towel and robe and rose to leave.

"Did I say we were done?" Bart asked.

"Will you give me the tape?"

"We haven't fucked yet."

"The tape first."

"Okay, okay."

Bart's dick was on the rise again. He grabbed Beatrice around the waist and pulled her down on the bed. His dick poked out like a flagpole, and Beatrice's expression went from anger to anticipation as Bart parted her legs and maneuvered himself between them.

"Oh! Oh!" Beatrice cried as Bart's dick, now well lubricated with Beatrice's saliva, rammed home into our little sister. Having had one come, Bart was taking his time. Beatrice ran her hands all over Bart's back, hips and ass as he pounded away. Despite herself, an orgasm was building. I could see it on her face.

"Please," she whispered.

"Oh, yeah. I'm there, honey! I'm there!"

Beatrice jammed her hips against Bart's and his head snapped up, tendons visible. Now he cried out and stopped moving, firing his wad deep, deep into our sister, who was now thrusting her hips against Bart, her face contorted with orgasm, but without the soft quality of love that was there when I held her in my arms.

There was none of the soft afterglow that follows true lovemaking, either. Once Beatrice was finished, she threw Bart off, gathered her robe, and dashed out of the room.

"That was a down payment!" he hollered, then he aimed the remote at the camera, and the screen went dark.

You moron, I thought. You probably ruined her for life.

But, for my own protection, I made copies of both tapes. Maybe what happened between Beatrice and me wasn't legal, but at least it was consensual. What Bart did was, apparently, rape, orgasm or not. And now I had the evidence.

All these years later, my niece Molly knew, too. I wondered what she would do with the knowledge.