Brother's Incestuous Rescue
The protesters were outside The Lady's Touch Massage Parlor, holding their signs, accusing us of being a lesbian bordello. My arms were crossed as I glared out the glass door at them marching by, a group of mostly women led by Mrs. Armstrong.
That fucking hypocrite. She loved everything her daughter and I had done to her. The married, Christian woman was lying about who she truly was. That she wasn't a dyke. Or at least bi. She came here yesterday for
another
massage appointment. She chose the blindfold massage. When I walked in, I found her already stripped naked and eager for it. When I suggested getting another masseuse, not telling her it would be her own daughter, she leaped at it.
She had no idea that Stefani, her daughter, and I worked here. She had used Carmelita the last few times. I thought it would be a great surprise. Stefani and I ate Mrs. Armstrong's pussy and fucked her with strap-on dildos and vibrators. She devoured our cunts and reveled in the lesbian passion. When we pulled off the blindfold, she freaked out when she discovered her daughter had eaten her out.
She said such horrible things to her daughter, accusing us of seducing her into sin like she wasn't there to have sex with her female masseuses. Now she was leading her church in protesting us. My hands clenched.
Our clients were canceling now. We were a new business. We didn't need this. They were smearing our reputation. We couldn't afford to take this heat. I wanted to go out there and claw out that bitch's eyes. I spotted her, her dark-red hair swaying about her shoulders as she held her sign, shaking it with the words: "Lesbian Predators. Happy Endings Massages are Illegal."
"Fucking
puta
bitch," muttered Carmelita. She was wearing a pastel, silk robe like the rest of us, hers short and hugging her shapely body. Her golden-brown skin contrasted with the pink. Her dark hair fell around her face. She wore a collar around her neck with the words: "Mistress's Cunt."
Her Mistress, and younger sister, Juana stood nearby. She flexed her fingers, staring with a blank face at the window, her lower lip trembling. She looked paler than usual. The Lady's Touch was her baby. She had come up with it, a place where we could massage women and, if they were willing, to have sex with them.
Not prostitution. They weren't paying for the sex, but for us to massage them. That was it. Everything else was just consenting individuals enjoying each other. The escort loophole.
"Lesbian Whores go to Hell!" another sign read.
My nostrils flared.
"I can't believe this," muttered Stefani. She stood by me, her fiery hair sweeping about her head. Her breasts rose and fell. "My mother is a fucking pile of dog shit! She ate me out. She devoured my pussy and
enjoyed
it. I felt that tongue of hers fluttering through me to the root."
"I know!" I hissed. My large breasts swelled my robe as I drew in a deep breath.
The phone rang. Lee, my half-sister, grabbed it. "Lady's Touch Massage Parlor. How can I help you?" She paused. Her elfin face fell. She sighed, nodding. "I understand. Yes, yes, we hope this goes away soon. Okay. Bye."
"Another cancel?" Juana asked.
"Another cancel," Lee said, setting the phone down. She was our receptionist. I borrowed her from my younger brother. She settled down on her chair behind her desk. She leaned back, staring at the ceiling. "Stefani, your mother needs a spanking."
"She needs a good fucking," Stefani muttered. "Not that I would ever touch that cunt again."
"Fucking
puta!"
snarled Carmelita. "Mistress, let me go out there and tell all those protesters just how she ate my cunt. The last time I massaged her, the moment I walked in she asked me to sit on her face. She begged for it. She didn't care about the massage, she just wanted to eat my snatch."
"They won't believe you," I said. "She'll just claim that we're lying to smear her and her fucking zombie church members will believe her."
"And there's my dad," Stefani said, shaking her head. A man stepped up, older, tall, his hair dark. Mr. Armstrong had his own sign. He joined his wife. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "He'll never believe that my mother's a lesbian whore.
I
barely believe it."
"Fuck," I muttered. "This is all my fault."
"No, it's not," Juana said, glancing at me. "I don't see you out there protesting us."
"I gave that
puta lesbiana
bliss," Carmelita growled. "That woman loves pussy, Sister-Mistress. I want to hold her down so you can whip her ass."
Juana smiled.
"Well, damn, this is a mess, isn't it?" a new voice said.
I turned around to see my brother, Clint, stepping out of the hallway, Melody at his side. I blinked at the sight of him then realized he must have come in the back door, responding to my text. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tucked in t-shirt, fresh from college. Melody was dressed more conservative than usual. My blonde half-sister, and one of Clint's girlfriends, wasn't wearing her skinny jeans that clung to her hips or a skirt so short she could "accidentally" flash her pussy. She was an exhibitionist, so the conservative dress she wore, something perfect for church, was a shock. It was white with flowers, falling past her knees. She had a little, knit sweater over it, left unbuttoned. The purple added a splash of color.
"Yeah, it's fucked up," I said, my heart beating faster. Clint looked strong and confident. He had black hair swept back and a chiseled chin. He was strong, his t-shirt tight about his muscular torso.
"So we're going to do something about it," Clint said, a smile growing. "Take care of this problem."
Melody nodded. She held up the sign she was holding low. It read: "Massages not Prostitutes! Lesbian Whores Go Away!"
I blinked at that. "You're going to start protesting against us?"
Melody gave me a big grin. "It's all Clint's idea."
"She's going to be our inside woman," Clint said. "We're going to crack this and find a way to turn Stefani's mother."
"Awesome," Lee said.
Melody gave Clint a hot kiss. Our half-sister thrust her tongue into his mouth as she shuddered against him. She was the mother of one of his children. His queen. She and Pam were the two of us sisters he loved the most, followed by our little sister Alicia. Melody broke the kiss and then sauntered back down the hallway, her heels giving her conservative skirt a delicious sway.
