In Dreams--Chapter 5
This story contains descriptions of close family members engaged in entirely inappropriate activities that some may find either disturbing or hot. If you find family members fantasizing about or taking liberties with each other or otherwise behaving in naughty ways, then you probably should stop reading right about... now.
All characters in this story are fictional and are eighteen years or older. Any resemblance to any real person, living, dead, or under the age of eighteen, is in your own dirty little mind. Sadly, most of the events portrayed in this story are not based on true events. I wish.
If you are still reading and are not offended by MILF or SILF or BILF and believe siblings behaving in very naughty ways is hot, I hope you enjoy this story.
If you have not read the earlier chapters, the only part that probably will make sense is our hero lusting over his MILFy sis. The story probably makes more sense if you start at the beginning...
Although I cannot guarantee that.
Look up insanity online or in a medical textbook.
There is a plethora of definitions: the inability to distinguish reality from fantasy; whether a person is in control of his or her behavior; a disordered mind. My personal favorite is the definition under the law, which defines an insane person as one unable to tell right from wrong.
All apply to me. To my sister, too. We cannot determine what is real and what is a dream or a fantasy. Neither of us has any ability to control our behavior, most particularly after we fall asleep. My mind is certainly disordered. And while I technically understand society views how my sister and I behave as wrong, we certainly do not care if it is wrong or right. Nor can we condemn what we do when we fall deep into a dreamlike state as wrong.
In those days, my sister became an obsession. At work, I sat at my desk thinking of nothing more than to take a little nap. That would have been a terrible idea, of course. The moment my co-workers caught sight of my cum-stained pants, human resources would be marching me out to my car carrying my personal items in a box.
Alyssa confessed she, too, suffered a similar obsession. Quite strange, from my perspective, to imagine someone thinking of me in such a way, but I guess it was possible. We both came to the conclusion only one thing might cure our affliction.
Alyssa's car was there when I arrived. As I opened the door, she was waiting for me like a cougar, an ambush predator awaiting her prey to venture too close.
"Hi, how was your..." She stopped me by pulling her shirt over her head, that stunning red mop spilling free as she peeled it off. She wore a bra underneath, both disappointing and alluring because of how amazing black lace looks against skin of polished white marble. Barely had I shut the door behind me when she threw her body against me, arms around my neck and her tongue down my throat.
Despite her aggression and abandonment of any pretense of formalities, this was no dream. I think. I was pretty sure, because I had driven six hours to get here, and that never happened in our dreams. The physical sensation was exactly the same, though, completely real and stimulating beyond comprehension.
The moment we kissed, I grabbed two handfuls of that tiny round ass. If her desperation exceeded her capacity for patience, I saw no reason to hold back, either. Her legs lifted off the floor and wrapped around my waist, holding her up. Two hands gripping her ass helped. Sprouting wood pressed against her crotch in this wonderful position. Even in our dreams we typically interact in some way before getting down to business. Talking or doing something.
I didn't know my way around the Air B&B she had rented. Not even the room she waylaid me in, so I looked past her head while my tongue ravaged her mouth with equal vigor as hers, searching for some place better than the floor to consummate our sibling lust.
The couch will have to do, I decided, and dropped her onto it while landing on top of her. Clumsy enough for our front teeth to smack together, and I hoped my sister would not have to look at me while I screwed her for the first time with her beloved brother grinning a snaggletooth smile. Hers was still there--my tongue confirmed no gaps.
I was dry-humping her like a dog on someone's leg as she tugged my shirt off my head. With me lying on top of her, unhooking her bra wasn't going to work, so I pulled one strap down enough to free her left breast.
It didn't come as too great a shock that it was exactly as it appeared in our dreams. Because what we saw, I realized, was reality. A perfect breast, really, milky skin surrounding a pink areola so light as to barely be perceptible. Her nipple, though, sticking up begging for me, was the color of bubble gum.
This sight froze me for a second, because I never wanted to forget my first actual sight of the most perfect breast in boob history. She froze, too, presumably hoping I found it as beautiful and impossible to resist as in our many recent nighttime trysts.
She needn't worry. Her entire nipple and areola disappeared into my voracious mouth. Almost half her tit, it seemed, and I sucked so hard it's a wonder she did not scream. Her fingers in my hair did push my head into her boob, though, as her dry-humping intensified underneath me.
"Oh, my god, that feels so good!" Who knew the first words my sister would say to me after months apart would be in the form of such a lascivious moan?
Her bra came off at some point, and the other breast had the perfect symmetry of earrings set with pink diamonds matched by a master jeweler. Her scent, rising from her chest, was both instantly recognizable as hers, yet different, filled with the unfamiliar pheromones her body produces when sexually primed. Yet, I awoke covered with this scent, my mind remembered. On those occasions, the smell of spunk inside my shorts overpowered it.
On my hands and knees on the carpet, with her now sitting up and her legs before me, I pulled her jeans down, taking her panties with it. I mean, what the hell? If her loins were burning as much as mine, why delay even a second more than necessary, right?
Holy shit! There it was, the rarest of gems--a beautiful, wild, untrimmed firebush. It formed a slightly thicker triangle than I had imagined since, well, the concept crept into my mind years ago. But it was exactly what I had munched so many times in the last few weeks.
I had planned to screw her brains out as soon as I had her pants off the whole time we were making out--which was probably only a minute or two. My cock felt a bit like a balloon someone had inflated to the point that it will pop with even the tiniest bit more air blown in. But, seeing this marvel, this most beautiful of sights my eyes have ever beholden, I frickin' had to eat it.
One thing was different. In our dreams, I don't remember her making much sound. Of course, so many times it ended before we got too far, so maybe I just climaxed before she got her vocal cords warmed up.
I didn't tease her, playing around the perimeter the way I usually did because she was totally primed. I smelled it, and it looked swollen and pink, and was obviously dripping wet. So, I kissed her snatch the same way she greeted me at the door. I just immediately tongue-fucked her. She was screaming and pulling my ears like she wanted my entire face up inside her, her breaths hitching and deep.
Good gracious, my sister has the most delicious vajayjay! It was like spiced honey, with a hint of sweet alcohol of some sort. Brandy. Her juices were so warm, too, feeling several degrees warmer than the cheeks it ran down as I tongued around inside her.
Both the taste and the feel insider her were familiar, and her clitoris really was as tiny as it felt in our--whatever the hell they were. Because seriously, you can't dream up something that matched reality with such astounding precision. This was the first time I'd licked my sister's vagina, but it was also the tenth or fifteenth or something.
