To Carthage Then I Came

***
NOTE: This is a "BBW" story as well as an incest-tale. If you don't like fat girls, begone!
***

I had wanted for years to fuck my sister Amanda, when, on Thanksgiving Break from my third year of college, I offered to drive her to our family reunion in Carthage, Tennessee. The suggestion emerged from a joke—we'd been avoiding these reunions since we'd both been in middle school. You see, our father's branch of the family is... what would be PC? They clearly instantiate traditional Carthage culture. Now, I don't need to ask if you've ever been to Carthage. You have not, unless perhaps you got lost on a road trip. Even then, you wouldn't have noticed if you blinked. Population: 2000-ish. All of them dirt poor. About half of them my family.

Now poverty can be respectable, and farming certainly so. Better a poor farmer than a soulless Wall Street CEO. But let me paint a picture. When last we were in Carthage, I was thirteen and Amanda was eleven. Our uncles gave us beer. Fine and good. But they also gave us weed. Riiiight. And offered us amphetamines. And began to take off their pants....

Ahhh, the rural south.

Our daily life was different. Our mother's family was ethnic Indo-Pakistani, basically of shabby-noble stock. Her parents had immigrated to the States when the partition occurred, whenever that was in the '40s. I've never visited; honestly, I've never cared that much. To my discredit, I can't speak the language at all. But anyway my father pulled himself out of the backwater by his bootstraps, met our mom at college—and here we are today. We did our AP classes, learned a few white-people languages, went on to start Reputable Lives without ever thinking of Carthage.

Until the Thanksgiving when Amanda asked, "Do you remember Daddy Toadstool?"

Reader, this won't make sense, but I must try to explain. For reasons unknown, the Carthage relatives nickname each other after various organisms. Often strange ones. There's Aunt Llama, Pappy Walrus, even Doc Plankton. Who else? Marge Mealworm, whose connection to us is obscure. And others. But Daddy Toadstool—oh, I hadn't forgotten him. He really looked like a mushroom. He head was large, bald, and exceedingly spotty. His chin trailed wispy threads of hair, like—like hyphae, I suppose. His body was straight and stocky, and he always wore gray or brown. Perhaps for the sake of irony, or just per the proper nature of a saprobe, he also enjoyed eating fungi. When last we'd visited, he'd downed two whole bowls of boiled Chanterelles.

So, Amanda's question made me laugh. "Mmm-hmm," I said at last. "How could I forget! And do you remember Miley—or should I say 'Pullet'?"

"Our cousin?"

"Yeah. The fat one."

Actually, that didn't narrow it down. They were all fat. It seems to be in the Carthage genes. My mother's side doesn't carry it, and I'm (so far) immune; but not so Amanda. Now eighteen years old, Amanda was easily 200 pounds, maybe slightly more. But, oh my God. It was in all the right places. Her body is incredibly curvy and voluptuous. Her tits are enormous: H cups, as I have learned. When tightly restrained, they create amazing cleavage—but still swell to both sides and cascade nearly to her navel. Her thighs are thick and beg to be parted; her belly is very large and round, but smooth and soft like butter. When she wears tight pants, which she does surprisingly often, her cute fat paunch hangs over her waistline, her belly-button a pussy-like fold. When she walks, her chubby legs rub together and make her tits and thick ass jiggle. When she wears bikinis... mmhh. I always needed a moment alone.

Now, my sister is especially hot, presumably because our Pakistani blood contributes radiant, flowing black hair and mysterious dark eyes to her overall voluptuousness. Yet certain of our Carthage-kin shared her generous proportions. This could go quite badly, of course—as for most of the men. But some of the women were beautiful. Certainly Aunt Rosemary (her real name) was always popular with her cousins.

At age thirteen, I'd been popular with mine. At least I was with Miley, who was older than me by one year. She'd taken me into one of the trailers that encircled the fire pit, told me to close my eyes, and squeezed out of her large shirt. But when I'd peeked, I'd panicked. For God's sake, I was a kid! I didn't know any better! I'd fled, and nothing had happened. Now, I wished that it had.

When I said "fat," Amanda punched me. She didn't seem to realize that I thought the word was hot. I wanted to slap her back and squeeze her tits in the process; but of course I chickened out. She hadn't the vaguest suspicion that I wanted her so much. I settled for just saying, "Well, Miley, she used to raise these massive frogs. Remember?"

"Hah! I do; yeah, for sure I do. She kept them in her bedroom, right? And she had to keep the door closed all the time! But when she showed us, a couple got out anyway, and we had to hunt them down!"

"I wonder what's become of those frogs."

"Yeah—and what's become of Miley. And old Dad Toadstool. And all the rest. Have you ever wanted to go back? Just—to see what's up these days?"

"Not really; but I guess it might be fun. The uncles will be pretty old these days, and I dare say they'd leave us alone. We're probably too old now for their tastes, anyway."

"Gross, Tariq! But... but yeah, I guess you're right. Uh. Do you think they were really going to...?"

"Probably. I doubt they wanted to show off their new tattoos! But then, you never know—sometimes people aren't what they seem to be."

***

When we told our parents we were going to Carthage for the reunion, they raised their eyebrows—but didn't hold us back. They'd never known what had (almost) happened last time, either with the uncles or with Miley. So we packed the car, headed west, and reached the Old Homestead right after noon.

The place had hardly changed. The old well, still usable if none too clean, stood between two rusty cars. Mangy dogs chewed corn cobs; chickens pecked for food in hubcaps. Thanksgiving tables rose by the fire pit; people, mostly heavy, sat in lawn chairs or cheated at croquet.

The first to spot us was Mealworm. "My goodn—is it Amanda? And Tariq! What a wonderful surprise! Come; come join us! Like some cider?"

Actually, we found it all quite fun. A lot of the older faces were gone—maybe dead, or just asleep, or possibly in jail—and most of the crowd was of the twenties-to-early-forties set. There were few children, oddly. I couldn't help but notice how... hot... some of the younger women had become. Many shapely plumpers filled out their shirts admirably. Stereotypically, most fat country folk are lumpy; but not so in this family. Our women have great curves. Maybe that's why we keep banging them.

Miley was hottest of all. Almost as fat as Amanda, she wore an obscenely short skirt and a tight, faded flannel-print tank. Her huge, chubby boobs bounced against her round, plump belly while she walked, and her large nipples clearly protruded. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her dirty blonde hair stuck up in two fluffy, disheveled pigtails. Miley was just as I remembered her, except for having gained some weight. When she saw me, she squealed—and pecked my mouth. "Kissin' cousins," she breathed in my ear. So! She still wanted me. And this time, I knew what I wanted. When no one was watching, I kissed her back—and slipped my tongue into her lips.

"Spoonin' leads to forkin'," I stated, as somberly as I could. Miley giggled. Then, after a furtive glance around, she heaved up her shirt. "Remember these?" she said.

She ran off before I could answer.

At dinner (which happened at about four o'clock), Miley sat beside me on the left. Amanda sat on my right. Never had I been pressed between two such sexy, heavy chicks. Nor two so closely related. We'd been eating for only a few minutes when Miley's hand found and squeezed my crotch. Not entirely surprised, I kept my composure. But Miley soon got bolder. With her actions hidden by the tablecloth, she unzipped my pants and slipped her hand around my cock. My first cousin was stroking my dick at Thanksgiving dinner, with my sister right beside me! And no one had a clue! Oh, I was turned on. I had no doubt that I'd soon tear off Miley's clothes and ram her slutty snatch. I'd flood her incestuous cunt with sticky cousin-cum. Right now, though, I slid my hand up her indecent skirt, pushed her panties aside, and thrust a finger in her hole.

Imagine trying to eat dinner next to your sexy sister while your hot fat whore of a cousin pumps your hard shaft. Imagine glancing at your cousin and thinking, while she stuffs her plump face with pie and asparagus and cranberry sauce, about what you'll do to her afterward. Imagine meeting her eyes and feeding her one of the asparagus-stalks, watching it slip between her lips, while you probe her horny slit. You pinch and play with her belly while you finger her, trying to let her know you like the fat, and she responds by smiling—and heaping more on her plate. She understands this. It's the South, and boys like heavy, curvy girls. Especially voluptuous cousins.

One moment, though, was worrying. Glancing at Amanda, I caught her studying me with a hard-to-read expression. Miley was leaning in rather close, her breath now somewhat ragged; did Amanda guess what was happening under the table? But how could she? Who, in this circumstance, would even imagine the possibility? Plucking up my courage, I started fingering Miley extra hard, turned toward Amanda, and asked, "How's your meal?" My sister couldn't know it, but my erect, cousin-tugged dick was pointing directly at her. I sent her telepathic vibes: You can touch it too, Amanda. Sister, ride my cock.

She missed the silent message.

"Good," she said. "You've been quiet. Just too busy stuffing your face to talk? Or Miley's face?"

Ah, so she'd seen that. "Is your face feeling left out?" I asked. Amanda hesitated, stared at me. I held out a drumstick. After a moment, she leaned over and took a bite. Her huge tits sunk down to the tabletop, just inches above my naked dick. "Do you like it?" I said in her ear.

"Mmm," my sister replied. My cousin gently squeezed my balls.

After dinner, and after a short sermon by Great-Uncle (Reverend) Corncob about moderation, the drinks began in earnest. Someone started a touch-football game, and Amanda joined in; but Miley and I, each armed with a beer, headed to her trailer. As soon as we were inside, I pinned her against the wall. "Cous," I breathed, "have you always been a slut?" Setting down my beer, I slipped both hands up her shirt and cupped as much as I could of her breasts.

"Spoonin' leads to forkin'!" she laughed back. "You started it! I'm no slut. 'cept with family, that is." She planted a big, wet kiss on my lips and purred, "I loooove to fuck my... own... family."

"Who else in the fam have you fucked?"

"The fam!" she screamed, laughing. "Ohh, tha's so city of you! The FAM! ...Well, lessee, I did Ricky...."

"Cousin Ricky?"

"Mm. He liked me on top. And I always use'ta suck my dad off, as soon as I turned eighteen. And I—I blew Robbie once, when both of us was high...."

"Robbie, your brother?"

"Mm-hmm. I'd a' fucked him, but he came too soon. He fell asleep with his dick in my mouth. In the morning, he hadda go to Iraq! Next time—uhhm. ...Gonna fuck you now, though, Cous. Gonna fuck your big, thick hard dick now, Cousin. You wanna cum in me?" Miley was breathing hard, and I pinched her stiff nipples.

Then I released my cock from my pants and closed her hand around it.

Soon I had her shirt and bra off, her skirt on the floor, and her panties around her knees. I smashed my face between her giant tits, sucking and licking; I banged her cunt violently with my fingers. I played with her big belly, her soft thighs; I poked her navel like a pussy. Then I dropped to my knees between her fat legs and began to lick her, loving that she was family. "Ohh, you Carthaginians are sooo sordid!" I muttered into her. "Not morally pristine, like me. Ehhhohh, cum on your cousin's face, you dirty family slut. You slutty nasty fatty, ride my incestuous tongue." I then fell silent, preoccupied with Miley's clit.

"Uggh, you called me... fat...." Miley protested. But it was too late: thanks as much to my talk of incest as to my busy tongue, she was cumming. Her thighs squeezed my face, and she bucked against me. Then she shivered once, hard. I came up, and kissed her on the lips. My hard cock rested snugly on her pussy. "Ohh, you ARE fat," I breathed. "Wonderfully, fuckably fat. Come to bed; let me rape your dripping cunt. Let me fill your sexy fat belly with cum."

She smiled. She'd just wanted me to say it. "Baaad boy!" she mocked. "You like 'em heavy sluts. Big tits 'n bellies and thick pussy-lips! Heh! You like fuckin' horny fat whores like me?"

I kissed her. "I LOVE fucking fat girls. Especially fat cousins."

"What—what about your sister?"

Already tugging her toward the bedroom, I paused. "Amanda? Why do you say that? I've never fucked Amanda."

"Heh! But you want to! I KNOW it! She's fatter 'n me, she's got bigger breasts, she's even more closely related! Oooh! You should seduce her, in Carthage! That's what we do! An' I wanna watch y'all fuck. I wanna see you stick 'er!"

I pushed Miley down on the bed. I slowly, purposefully opened her heavy legs. Her shorn wet pussy invited my hard dick; her huge boobs spilled in all directions. I grabbed her belly with both hands and lustfully kneaded her fat. "Watch me, Cousin," I growled. "Watch my cock go in." She sat up a little on her elbows, her vaginal lips half open. I pressed my cock-head to her hole. "You need your cousin's dick inside you, don't you Miley?"

"Oh, yeaah Tariq." she whined. "Put it in! Fuck your horny cousin!"

Gazing straight into her eyes, I thrust my whole length deep into her slutty wetness. There. I was balls-deep in my first cousin. I'd broken the incest barrier. I pressed her back to the bed, kissed her hard, took as much as possible her tits in my hands, and began to pound Miley with long, rough strokes. The bed creaked and groaned beneath our combined weight, and her belly rubbed and bounced against my flat stomach as I hammed her cunt. Miley softly began to groan.

"Is this what you want Robbie to do?" I panted.

"Mm. My brother. Yes! Cousin, Tariq, fuck me like my brother!"

"What a sick little slut. You'd fuck your very own brother?"

"Ehhh. Yes, yes yes! I wanna ride my brother's dick! Uhhhh, Tariq. Fuck me! I want you and Robbie to fuck me together!"

"You'd be our family whore. Cousin-cock in your fat lips and brother-cock in your pussy. Or maybe both our dicks in your pussy at once, hmmm, you'd like that? Bro underneath you, cousin on top? Our cocks grinding together inside you; do you like that shit? Erghhhh, Cous, I love fucking you. I love your giant tits. I—"

"Ughhhhhh—hhhhhh...." Shuddering, her chubby body rippling, Miley came on my cock. And that was too much for me. Parting her heavy thighs even wider and then squeezing her giant breasts together, I slammed my cock deep into my first-cousin and came, filling her womb with a flood of incestuous semen.

We lay panting in the sweaty sheets for a while, then rose to gather our clothes. Somehow the sight of Miley's tits as she leaned over for her panties aroused me again, and I wrapped my arms around her and slipped my cock into her cunt from behind before she could pull her panties up. She just smiled, closed her eyes, and let me cum a little more in her pussy. Then she kissed me gently. "You ran off the first time I tried this," she chided, softly laughing.

"Well, I promise I'll make up for that now!"

***

When dusk fell, the family gathered around the fire pit and watched the flames rise to the Tennessee stars. Mostly trash fueled the blaze, so I imagine it was rather toxic; but we chose not to think about that, and contented ourselves with the warmth and the erratic glow. Miley stood on one side of me, Amanda on the other. The former held my hand. The latter occasionally rubbed her thigh, soothing an injury from the football game.

"Weren't you playing touch football?" I asked, confused.

"Yes," replied Amanda, "but nobody here plays fair! Apparently, touch football in Carthage means 'touch with anything you like.' Crawfish got me with a shovel!"

"Good Lord!" I laughed. "But I suppose I should have guessed. That is how things are done around here, isn't it? Are you seriously hurt?"

"Nah. Just a bruise and a scratch."

"Was the shovel rusty?"

"Ooh. I didn't think of that. Maybe?"

"We'd better examine it. Last thing you want is to bring rabies come home from Carthage!"

At this, Miley squeezed my hand significantly, than suggested to Amanda: "Wan'cha come into my trailer. Light's much better inside."

"Okay," said Amanda. "Tariq, come with? Oh, and grab some doughnuts from the table. I'm hungry again!"

***

The three of us sat on Miley's bed, and I prayed Amanda couldn't smell the sex. "Now, where's it hurt?" asked Miley.

Amanda wore a mid-length skirt and a white top. She'd also had on flats, but had kicked them off when she entered the trailer, and now she reclined barefoot on the bed. "Here," she told Miley, and lifted the hem of her skirt a few inches.

On Amanda's inner thigh, a little more than a foot up from her knee, was a small but dark bruise and a thin red line. Both Miley and I leaned in. "Ohh, I don't think it broke the skin!" said Miley.

"No," I confirmed, kneading her flesh around the spot. "You've escaped rabies for now. But next time, if someone's going to touch you there, don't let it be with a shovel!"

"Yeah!" cried Miley. "It'd better be like this—" And without warning, she thrust her hand up Amanda's skirt. Amanda shrieked and twisted, but already Miley was rolling around on the bed, hysterically laughing. "Ha! Hahh!" she screamed, hardly able to breathe. "Next time—next time—next time, if you don' want the touchin', don't open your legs! You asked for it!"

By now Amanda, over the initially shock, was laughing too; and of course I followed suit. "I asked for it?" she said. "I? What about you—what the hell are you wearing, slut?" And with that, she reached both hands up Miley's excuse for a skirt.

But Miley didn't flinch. "Mm," she replied. "Trouble is, I AM askin' for it! Hot girl like you can touch me any day!"

Amanda still seemed to think she could call Miley's bluff. Keeping one hand up Miley's skirt, she flung the other under her top and grabbed a naked tit. Miley responded by thrusting both hands up Amanda's shirt and grabbing both her breasts. "Tariq, help me!" Amanda shrieked, letting go of Miley.

I hardly knew what to do, but damned if I wasn't going to do something! Acting more lustfully than strategically, I pulled Miley's top off completely, then yanked her skirt and panties to her knees. "She's all yours, Amanda!" I cried. "Put her in her place!"

I don't know what I expected, but Amanda's reaction stunned me. She plopped down on top of Miley, grabbed a tit, and thrust a finger into her cousin's hairless cunt. Miley stopped laughing, and after a moment she started to moan. She wrestled with the buttons on Amanda's blouse, and soon had it opened. Amanda paused to help her remove it. Then Amanda's bra came off, too, and finally her skirt and panties. Now my sister and first cousin were fully naked, by turns sucking each other's nipples and rubbing each other's clits. Both girls seemed to have forgotten I was even in the room.

This was too much for me. I stripped off my clothes, too, and joined them in the bed. Amanda's eyes widened when she saw my rock-hard cock just inches from her face, and her beautiful dark eyes met mine inquiringly. God, I wanted her to suck it. But instead Miley wrapped a hand around it and guided it to her own mouth. Miley gulped down my dick ravenously while Amanda just stared, her finger still moving in and out of Miley's cunt. "You're so sexy, Amanda," I said, while Miley sucked me. "I love your curvy body." And then, uninvited, I took my sister's huge breasts in my hands.