My Little Sister Is Only Eighteen

"Hold on, a second!" I said. "Where did you sleep last night if not on this bed?"

She fumbled with her hair for a moment, as her face registered a great stress. "I'd rather not say," she said.

"You'd rather not say?" I said. "I just learned that I stuck it into my…oh, God…my mother instead of into you, and you're saying I don't deserve an explanation? Where did you sleep last night?"

"I slept on a different bed. That's right. I slept on the living room couch."

"Cut that shit out!" I said. "I slept on the living room couch for a while last night and there was no one else sleeping on it at the time. Come on, you're jerking my chain, aren't you? It was you, after all, that was sleeping in my bed and that business about my mother is all bullshit, isn't it?" She nodded. Then I remembered again her expression when she first told me that I had fucked my own mother and I was sure that she was not kidding then. Her expression was of utter disgust at realizing what had happened. She wasn't lying then -- she was lying now. I calmly sat on the bed and made her sit next to me. I patted her head, kissed her and said, "Now tell me the truth! Where did you sleep last night?"

"On your parents' bed," she finally said.

"And where were my parents at the time?" I asked.

"Well, your mother was in your bed and your dad was next to me."

"Sleeping?" I was incredulous.

"Eventually," she said. "He eventually slept after we made love for an hour."

"You fucked my dad?"

"It was more like him fucking me," she said simply.

"It's just semantics," I said. "You spread them for my dad, he nailed you, and you had an orgasm, didn't you?"

"I had three."

"Three orgasms? You had three orgasms with my father? How many did you have with me?"

"One."

Damn young age, I thought. We're full of energy -- we can run and jump all day and we can be on the throws of collapsing, but we can certainly get it up in an instant. And then, what? Bam, bam, thank you ma'am! I had read some of those porno stories where the hero can get it up and hold it for an hour, and then come time after time without stopping… what bullshit! I had also watched porno videos where the hero keeps fucking, sucking, licking, eating, and being sucked and licked for what seems an eternity. But with videos, when the poor bastard is exhausted, they can stop and wait for him to get it up again, and edit the scenes together to look like an hour long, continuous hump. In real life, there are few supermen if any. Supermen are invented by writers and created by film editors. I looked at her, incredulous.

"One? Just one? You faked the rest?"

She didn't answer. Her hand crept toward my dick and began to massage it. The idea of her sleeping with my father made me mad with her, but I didn't feel disgusted. After all, my dad was a young man, hardly forty-five, and full of piss and vinegar. But I had so many orgasms that day, I was getting slower than a slow boat to China in an ocean of molasses. Well, like I said, there are no supermen. And if there are, I'm not one of them. She crept up to my crotch and put my limp dick in her mouth. She worked me over for ten minutes, and all she could get out of it was a half-erection. Well, a half-erection is no better than none at all. I could feel she was worked up and she wouldn't go to bed unsatisfied so I decided to finish this business as soon as possible and go to sleep. I turned her over, and put my face between her legs. I began licking her pussy with all the passion of a man juiced out and half-asleep already. She soon stopped me.

"Don't kill yourself, Manny," she said. "Tomorrow's another day, honey." She kissed me, rather energetically, and went to her couch in the den.

What a night, I thought. What a day! What a night, the night before! The events of the past two days kept passing through my mind. I slept with my own mother thinking she was my sister, I slept with my sister thinking I had already slept with her once, and I slept with my sister's friend thinking it was her and not my sister I slept with. What next? What farcical twist my fate would throw at me? Will fate have it that I'll sleep with my own father by mistake? I sure the hell hoped not! The thought freaked me out and I quickly blocked it from my mind by thinking of other things, more likely to help a guy fall asleep. I thought of convertibles and power boats, if you want to know.

I must have slept for hours in a dreamless sleep when I was slowly awakened by a strange sensation. Somebody was sucking my dick. It took me a while to become aware of the fact that I was wide awake and not dreaming. I opened my eyes but it was pitch black. In the stillness of the night I could hear the excited breathing of the person sucking me and the slight rustling of the bed sheets. Although not fully awake yet, I felt my dick rise and shine in the hot, wet mouth wrapped around it. I whispered, "Who is it?" but I felt a woman's hand silencing my mouth. I slackened my jaws and allowed the slender fingers of that hand slip between my lips. I sucked on them and felt the long fingernails touching my tongue. I also realized that the owner of the fingers was being careful not to scratch my tongue with her fingernails and I felt a certain gratitude for that person's thoughtfulness. She soon pulled her fingers out and rearranged herself by crawling on hands and knees to bring her crotch above my face, without for a moment letting my dick off her mouth. I put my hands on her hips and helped her lower her pussy to my lips. I sucked on her clit and for the a second or two, my nose was almost up her asshole. It smelled of soap and perfume, and I realized that she had thoroughly cleansed herself before coming to my bed. The bitch, I thought, was prepared for everything.

As the fog of the deep sleep was lifting from my mind, I assumed that the night visitor was Linda. I had let her go to her bed without a final orgasm, and she had come back to collect her dues. I decided to be twice as obliging as before and stuck my tongue in that sweet scented asshole. That must have acted like an electrical current because I sensed her body quiver and my fingers felt the goose bumps on her thighs. She placed her finger on her clit and rubbed it with vigor for a few seconds as my tongue was working in and out her anus. She came quickly and her hot juices ran down my chin. She finished me off right after that and without a word rolled off my bed onto the floor and out of my room on all fours, swift like a cat, without giving me a chance to recognize her silhouette in the faint glow of night light in the hallway. Then I remember my sister saying that my sperm was hers, and realized that my mystery lover was quick to swallow my sperm. Aha, I thought, I got you, little sister!

Or maybe, not.

I rolled over and went back to sleep. Next morning, I showered, dressed and went downstairs to breakfast. I was late, as always. My sister and her girlfriend were sitting at the breakfast table drinking tea and orange juice and joking and laughing among themselves, and paid little attention to my arrival. My dad was reading the newspaper, and my mother, as usual, was standing up, waiting on the rest of us. As soon as she saw me sit down, she brought a batch of scrambled eggs she must have started preparing when she heard me making noises upstairs, and a couple of pieces of toast. She opened a new jar of jam and dipped a knife in it, transferring some of the jam to my plate. She picked with her fingertip the drop of jam that rolled down the side of the jar and brought it to my lips. "Here, Manny," she said, "have a taste of that new jam I got for you!" Before I knew it, she had inserted her fingertip into my mouth. As I licked the sweet jam, she made a small move to keep her fingernail from hurting my tongue -- and I felt like all the blood was drained from my head. I tried hard not to faint. I finally was able to utter hoarsely, "Thanks, mom, this is so sweet of you." She fixed her eyes on mine for a moment and said nothing. Her face betrayed nothing, either.

My mother had gotten pregnant with me in senior high. My father was in college at the time and was visiting his parents when the two met at the swimming pool of the golf club of which their parents were members. As soon as the pregnancy was confirmed, a quick marriage was arranged for my parents as both sets of my grandparents were of the old school and insisted that no grandchild of theirs would be a bastard. My paternal grandfather's medical practice assured them of a good life, and my parents went back to finish high school in another town. That way, appearances were kept intact, and my parents found themselves with the burdens of a family before either of them had time to sow their wild oats. No wonder my dad would hump anything that would cross his way, as he did with Linda. I was dying to find out how the two of them became lovers, but there was no way I could ask either one of them for the story. Little did I know that I would become privy to that story in the strangest way, by a row of coincidences that seemed to work in my favor these past few days.

It turned out that Linda had brought with her a bag with clothes and other necessities, which she had stored in my sister's bedroom. I saw that bag when I combed my sister's bedroom to find out whether or not she was using the pill. But let me start from the beginning. Or, at least, from that morning. After breakfast, my father left to go to work as always, and my mother announced that she had to get a few items from the supermarket. The girls said that they were going shopping at the mall, and pretty soon, I found myself alone in the house. I was obsessed with the thought of having made love to my sister and I wanted to make sure that she was safe. She had told me that she was a virgin and that she wasn't on the pill, but I found that hard to believe. I had to make sure for myself, so I went into her room and searched around with a fine tooth comb, looking for the telltale round plastic box with the pills or, perhaps, a diaphragm. Not finding anything, I came upon Linda's bag, resting on a chair in my sister's room. I rummaged through the bag and found a diary. It was one of those girly diaries, secured with a small lock.

My curiosity got the best of me and I had no trouble picking the flimsy lock with a paper clip. I started reading. Skimming would be a better description as I had no interest in many of the things she was writing about. I realized that I was invading her privacy, but I needed to find out if she had written down anything concerning her affair with my father. As I flipped through the pages, one word kept popping up. It was not a regular word, it was rather a shorthand for something. It was either written in red ink or underlined, or accentuated with little hearts, exclamation marks and asterisks. That word was "MrO." I assumed that it must have been an important code word and I started reading everything around it. She was writing about family parties and other gatherings where one of the people present was always this MrO. Soon I saw another code word, MrsO. As I kept on reading, I realized that the code words were standing for my father, Mr. Olafsen, and my mother, Mrs. Olafsen.

"Everyone was drunk out of their minds. My mother was sleeping on the couch, my dad was nowhere to be found. I went into my room only to find MrO. laying on my bed. He looked so handsome in his sleep, I couldn't resist and I kissed him. He was too drunk to return the kiss, but I saw a bulge in his crotch and I thought he had a hardon. How could he have a hardon while asleep? I touched it, and it felt real hard. My heart was pounding. What if he woke up and saw me? But he kept snoring and I was real curious. I slowly unzipped his pants and it bulged out, still inside his boxers. I parted the fly of his boxers and his thing just jumped out at me, almost hitting me in the face. It had a sweet smell to it. I wonder if all men's things smell that way, as I had never seen, let alone smell, another one. I touched the head and it felt silky and smooth.

Mr. O. was fast asleep and unawares of what I was doing with his thing. I felt an urge to taste the strange thing and before I knew it, I had its tip in my mouth. It felt hot and sweet. I kept licking and sucking it, as my heart pounded of fear that he may wake up and find me kissing his thing. But I realized that he wasn't going to wake up no matter what. I sucked some more and I heard him growl in his sleep. The more I sucked the more he growled. That was funny! I sucked and sucked. And then after a few seconds of me sucking it, he let a loud growl, and his thing exploded filling my mouth with a warm liquid. He had come into my mouth in his sleep. I wonder what was he dreaming of? I didn't know what to do with his juice in my mouth so I swallowed it. And then I realized I liked it. My god, I had given a sleeping man my first blow job, and I liked it!

And then I realized that it wasn't a totally sexual thing. I mean, I didn't come or anything. But I liked licking his thing and I liked being able to make him come, even in his sleep. Then, I thought, he had come, but how about me? I massaged his thing to keep it from going totally down as it had started to, and it became hard again. I went out in the hallway and called, not too loud, "Mom, dad!" There was no answer and I that assured me that everyone was sleeping. I went back to my bed with MrO. on it and licked his thing some more to make it hard and wet. I climbed on the bed, and took out my panties. I kneeled next to him, and put my other leg over to his other side. As I straddled him, I took his thing and guided it into my thing and I felt the tip of it on the entrance.

Then I lowered myself over it and I felt the man's manhood slide inside me. It was so sweet, I almost came at once. I kept rising and lowering my pelvis over his thing and I felt it rub against my clit. I abandoned myself to that game, f----ing with a sleeping man and moved harder and faster when I felt his hands on my hips and looked down and saw him smile at me. I jumped up and tried to get off the bed when he grabbed me and threw me on my back on the bed. He came on top of me and forced his thing inside me. I came immediately and had two more orgasms one right after another. He was just about to come as I could tell from his thrusting that became harder and faster and I said, "Please, don't!" He said, "Please don't what, you little slut?"

"Please don't come inside me!" I pleaded. I managed to squirm out from under him and he just stood there, on his knees with his thing sticking out, gleaming in the dark. I fell on my hands and knees and took it in my mouth. He came immediately and his sperm almost chocked me. I don't know what came upon me, but I stood up facing him, with my mouth full of his sperm and put my lips on his. He opened his mouth to let his tongue out and I blew his sperm into his mouth. He was surprised for a second, almost disgusted, but he looked at me and his eyes smiled. He kissed me once again and I sucked his mouth clean. As I swallowed his come, I had the biggest orgasm I ever had in my life.

He kissed me again and said, "I guess we have a little pervert in our hands, don't we?" He rolled me over and made me stand on my knees, bending over, elbows on the bed. He came from behind me and stuck his tongue in my thing, and sucked my clit until I was ready to come again when he straightened up and slid his thing in my behind. Oh, what a pain jutted through my body! He brought his hand in front and massaged my clit as he was pounding my behind with his thing. I came once again under a terrible pain. It was a mix of pain and pleasure that I had never felt before. I assume he came, too, because he pulled out, rolled on his back and pulled me on top of him. He said, "I want to f—k you again, you little slut." I said, "Now?"

"Yes, now and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and every day till I grow old and feeble and can't get it up any more."

I stopped reading because I was coming, too. As I had started to read, I was slowly becoming more and more excited and without even thinking, I was slowly jerking myself off. I looked at my hand, full of warm sperm and thought of the events of the night before and of the events I read in that diary. I figured, "what the hell," and I raised my hand to my lips when a small but strong hand stopped me. In my excitement, I had not heard my mother coming back, up the stairs and into my sister's room. And now, she was standing next to me with her hand grasping my wrist and my palm full of cum. I blushed deeply and I wished I were dead. She fixed her gaze upon me and, without and word, brought my hand up to her mouth and licked it clean. I just stood there, with my dick hanging out my fly, the diary in my left hand, not knowing whether to shit or go blind. I opened my mouth to say something, but she silenced me by placing her fingers on my lips.

I don't know what came onto me, but I parted my lips and sucked my mother's slender fingers into my mouth. She threw her head back and let a deep sigh. She let go of my hand and followed me as I backed the few steps into a chair and sat down. She straddled my knee, with her fingers still in my mouth, sighing, eyes closed, head tossed back. Without looking, she felt for my crotch with her free hand and grabbed my dick. And then she slowly started working herself up, rubbing her crotch on top of my knee, slowly, inexorably, back and forth until she could take it no more, then let out a small cry, jumped on her feet, straightened her clothes and left the room without a word, leaving me with a tremendous hard on which I took care of with a couple of quick strokes as soon as she disappeared. And so I found myself in the same position again, with my hand full of sperm and ready to taste it. I looked at the door anticipating another strange intruder, but when nobody showed up, I licked my hand clean and made toward the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror, expecting to see a monster looking back – a mother fucker and a sister fucker – and I only saw the same familiar face. I pondered about how criminals or sinners look and I decided they don't look any different from anybody else.

Someone had said that the eyes are the mirrors of the soul. My soul was in turmoil but my eyes looked back at me as if nothing had happened. I looked as deeply as I could into my own eyes for a long time, hoping to see my soul hiding behind the blue stare, but to no avail. So I decided right then and there that no matter what I do, what sins of depravity I may commit, my face will never betray me. There will be no portrait of Dorian Grey in the attic of this sinner's soul. That thought took care of my concerns about my physical appearance but it still remained the question of my spiritual self. Was I a candidate for hell? And is there a hell, to begin with? That was a lot to ponder for a 22-year old who had for too long been blindly following the dictate of his dickhead, not stopping to think of the moral consequences of his…its actions.

Looking back at the events of the past couple of days, I realized that none of it was of my doing. I didn't pursue my sister. I didn't even laid eyes on her girl friend, and, God knows, I had never had a single lecherous thought about my mother. It was all thrown at me, as by some superior force. It all started with the simple event of me waking up in the middle of the night with a hard on trapped between some female's legs. My first thought was of retreat, but it didn't happen that way. I ended up screwing that pussy that was blindly seeking my dick, without bothering to discover the identity of its owner. Well, it turned out that the pussy I screwed was the same one I had come out of, 22 years ago, and that thought gave me a moral headache.