"Sweet baby," he whispered in the dim, murky light, "I missed you so much."
"Ohhh, Dennis," Susan exhaled, her lips touching his ear, "I really need some love."
The sibling ritual began.
For a sweet, lingering moment, their mouths devoured each other noisily, tongues lashing out like battling serpents as saliva dampened their faces. Susan practically tore her brother's shirt off, tossing it aside, as he quickly dropped my trousers and boxer shorts. In spite of her condition, she lunged forward like a panther, pushing him against the wall. Her open mouth pressed against his chest, kissing it and exploring it with her tongue. Dennis closed my eyes momentarily, lost in the excitement of their long overdue reunion.
"Oh, baby," he shuddered, "you know what I want."
Her lips glistening wetly, Susan began to tease his left nipple with her teeth. The teasing turned into suckling as he moaned with pleasure, pressing his face into her hair. Her hand encircled his cock, squeezing it and stroking it slowly. The scent of his sister's flesh, mixed with that familiar perfume she always wore for him, filled his nostrils as he inhaled deeply. Their bodies pressed together, and his erection poked awkwardly against her swollen belly, making her giggle involuntarily. Breaking her suction, Susan turned her face to his.
"Get me naked," she whispered.
Susan pulled her hair aside as Dennis unbuttoned the back of her dress. Kissing her neck gently, he pulled the dress away from her shoulders, letting it slip to her feet. Her bare skin reflected the meager light from the bathroom. His fingers nestled in the curve of her back as he led his sister to the king-sized bed.
As they sat on the flowered bedspread, Dennis helped Susan unhook her bra. Gently, he peeled the fabric away from her engorged mounds. Reacting to the cool air, her areolas puckered and her dark, red nipples became hard and pointed. Kneeling at her feet, he slid her panty hose down her parted legs, gazing at her exposed body. As she had done for years, Susan kept her sweet little bush trimmed in a perfect triangle. She knew how much her brother loved to press his face into her silky floss. As he reverently kissed the inside of each thigh, he listened to her breathing becoming more audible, and smelled the gentle musk of her need. Gazing into her beautiful, gleaming brown eyes, he rubbed her swollen stomach.
"It's almost nine months to the day," he smiled, recalling their last meeting. He cupped her heavy breasts, lifting them, slightly awestruck by their sheer bulk.
"Suck them," she said, then, smiling, added, "they'll dribble all over if you don't."
Nuzzling her thick, erect nipple, Dennis began to suckle his sister's breast, pressing his face into the soft, pillowy mound as his hands clasped around her naked, rounded hips. She sighed with pleasure as he began to draw out mouthful after mouthful of warm, rich fluid. Some of the milk escaped the vacuum of his mouth, trickling down his chin and across his chest. A rhythmic sucking noise filled his ears as he drained Susan's supply. Soon, the flow began to ebb.
"Get the other one, too," she commanded gently. His hungry mouth released her wet nipple and quickly turned to the other, sucking powerfully, as he knew she liked it. "Mmmm," she moaned, running her fingers through his hair, "I never get tired of this." Dennis knew it was true. Whether she was pregnant or not, he could suck his sister's tits for hours, not only before, but after sex, after they had both come.
Back when Dennis had a fully functioning marriage, his wife's nipples would be very sensitive after sex. She would cover her breasts with her arms, then roll over, facing away from him, as if he'd done something wrong by trying to touch them again. Eventually, he learned the best thing to do was to go to sleep, and leave Lillian to her own devices. With Susan, tit-sucking was merely part of a long, slow buildup to another hot round of sex.
As Susan fed Dennis the last of her milk, his hands slid gently around her waist, down to her thighs. Slowly, he brushed against her thick, blonde patch, caressing the swollen lips of her pussy. After having one child and preparing for another, her pussy had enlarged considerably. Parting her legs slightly, she sighed.
"Be careful, baby, you might start it," she whispered, referring to her late-term pregnancy. But she needed to fuck, and he did, too, and the baby was due anyway.
Gently pushing her back on the bed, Dennis slid between Susan's legs, pressing his hips against hers. With hardly a push, his cock slid into her sopping, wet pussy. Not much friction was there, but none was expected. As he gently began to pump against his sister's pregnant body, he shuddered.
"Oh, God, I love you, Susan."
"Mmmm," she groaned, trying to control her arousal, trying to savor their time together and to make it last for as long as possible, "I love you too, sweet brother."
The motel room filled with the sounds and smells of animalistic, sibling sex.
3.
As children, my sister and I had the same relationship most siblings do. We were at each other's throats half of the time, and barely tolerating each other the remaining half. Shortly after the time we reached age eighteen, Susan's wild appetites surfaced, and our generic sibling relationship would never be the same. My sister would give "togetherness" a whole new level of meaning; pressing her body against mine as we watched television late at night, exposing herself "by accident" as she exited the steamy bathroom and proceeded to dress, and otherwise teasing me mercilessly when no witnesses could see.
By the time we graduated high school, the whole game had escalated into more. One night, Susan crept into my bedroom and slid under the covers. I was sound asleep until I felt a warm body pressing against me from behind, hands exploring my body, especially my nether regions. At first, I thought I was dreaming, then came the moment I realized it was really happening, my sister was gripping my cock. This was the first time, after a slow buildup of teasing, that she crossed the barrier and committed an overtly sexual act.
Susan and I were fraternal twins. She was a little bit older, having emerged from the womb first. We didn't look exactly alike, but when I faced her, it was almost like looking into a mirror. As she started masturbating me and grinding against me from behind, my first thought was to resist, but then I relented. It was almost like fucking another version of myself. From that fateful night on, years of incestuous mischief awaited us.
Our mother, widowed at thirty-seven, held an administrative position at a local law firm, which allowed her to both support her family and save for the future. Most of the year, her work schedule synchronized with our days at school, so when we were home, so was she. Summertime, though, meant no school for us, and loads of free time to get into the usual mischief teenagers do. After that first night of passion, when we became lovers, summertime took on a whole, new meaning. Now, each weekday morning brought that magic time when Mom left for work and we remained home.
"You two stay out of trouble," Mom said most mornings as she rushed out the door. We had to smile. Susan locked the doors and we eagerly tended to each other.
Our assigned chores took only an hour or so. Most of the day was spent on my sister's bed, under the soft, warm blankets. Writhing together, our nude bodies coupled quickly, undulating insistently to completion. Susan taught me all she knew about fucking, and I tried very hard to be an ace student. By the afternoon, we had to change her bedsheets, which reeked of sex. A quick jump into the shower made us smell sweet and innocent once again.
"My, you two smell good," Mom complimented us on many a summer afternoon, "and you put clean sheets on the bed again."
To my dismay, this dream would not last. Like many independently-minded teenaged girls lacking a strong father figure, Susan developed the hard head of a pack mule and an unwavering resistance to our mother's attempts at authority. Eventually, Susan's activities outside of our loving home had become too much for Mom and, after a mother-daughter catfight over Susan's new, lesbian girlfriend, my sister exited the nest.
My sister and her lover, a short, plump, masculine terror named Theresa, who was five years her senior, took a small apartment in the seedy, low-rent (or trendy, Bohemian, depending on one's outlook) corner of town, down by the university. She had taken a job at the local shopping mall to support her fresh, new independence. There was talk of college, but Susan's objective in those first months of freedom was "to find herself". Of course, I would drop by often, gunning my little Kawasaki motorcycle across town in no time flat. Susan had kindly given me a key.
At the time, the dawn of the '80's, Susan endeavored to live the Punk lifestyle, complete with butchered, spiky blue hair that conveyed to the world her status as a Grrl. Theresa, in contrast, had a short, mannish cut dyed to a deep, bloody red which, I thought, perfectly matched her dark personality. What a motley fucking pair they made.
Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Their relationship started well before Susan left home. Theresa liked her lovers young, as I would soon discover, and had been patrolling the local hangouts for young, rebellious girls. Theresa was a veteran predator, and soon had my eighteen-year-old sister wrapped around her chubby little finger. Soon, Theresa would come to the house when our mother was at work, and it didn't take long for her to join in on our incestuous activities.
