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“Hey—what are you doing home?” she asked, the pretense of normalcy—that everything was just fine and dandy as per usual—and the enthusiasm to see me corroded by worry, as well as the very legitimate fear that I had been here the whole time (a fear she had many a reason to feel threatened by).
She was pretty—no, not just pretty… She was beautiful with her long, thin brunette hair; the nearly invisible plethora of freckles adorning her cheeks (that one could see only when face-to-face with her); the way she turned pink when she got excited, embarrassed, or angry; the way she fidgeted about, alternating between putting pressure on one foot and then the other when she got nervous (akin to how she used to hop about in a similar manner when she was just a kid); how her blue eyes lit up and twinkled whenever you truly captivated her interest and attention as it was your turn to speak (which was instead at that moment a panicked scanning)—my sister… my fraternal twin sister… she was beautiful—innocent, even, like the most devout girl scout who grew up to still retain her curiosity, naivety, and childishness in her every physical feature and throughout every aspect of her personality…
And yet—in the freedom and carelessness of sweetest, uninhibited solitude—I had heard and seen that sister (my most innocent and childlike twin sister!) say and do the absolutely unthinkable—yes, the absolutely unfathomable and incomprehensible? What! Was it true—could this be real? My heart racing out of my chest, my brain pounding—oh how I wished it wasn’t—how I wished it could be but a dream…!
“Oh my god…” she gasped upon realizing that—because I couldn’t conceal the shock, horror, and disbelief in the way I glared at her in utter speechlessness—I had at the very least heard absolutely everything she never wanted me (or anyone) to hear. (Her voice a whimper; her lower lip quivering; her weight shifting from one foot to the next ever so swiftly; her inflection diminishing from the illusion of giddiness and glee and to the reality of gruesomest guilt—of a remorse just as audible as it was visible: ) “…How long have you been home?”
“Ash, I never left… I’ve been either in the kitchen or the living room this whole time—you didn’t even think it wise to check the house before you started doing… that?”
Suddenly defensive—turning bright pink at the cheeks (the freckles of which becoming slightly more prominent as a result)—she parried with, “But you never not leave!”
“Today is an unhappy little exception, then—and what, are you blaming me for catching you being so… Ugh—I can’t even believe you!—what were you thinking!—how could you be so… Ugh!”
(Withdrawing a step or two; her bra strap falling down her bicep—which she quickly fixes before prying her skimpy panties from riding so high up her crack:) “Whoa there, Jen—don’t you think you’re going a little psycho? I mean… yeah—but come on, it’s not that bad!” (After a brief beat; her tone so full of uncertainty; her voice so soft in its insecurity:) “…Is it?”
I coughed at the sight of the bulge in the front of her underwear—and, upon noticing that I noticed the thing which I had seen only a meager matter of mere minutes ago bare and in her hand, she struggled to fix her wardrobe malfunction by trying to fit the culprit between her undies and down the side of her thigh—I said, “It’s not what you were doing, it’s the fact you said the sickest shit—” (Upon the tip of her prick—that same prick which was now hard and pulsating—poking out from the bottom of her panties; diverting my eyes after a quick glance:) “Jesus Christ, Ashley!” I pointed to the bedroom behind her while ordering, “Go put on some fucking pants…!”
We relocated the argument there (by her bed, to be precise), where she was desperate to slide into a pair of jeans—those same jeans struggling to fit the shapely width of her thighs, ass, waist, and hips (causing her to shake, dance, prance about, gyrate, pump, buck, thrust, and every other sort of rude and lewd gesture in the book just to get them on). Meanwhile, her bra strap kept sliding down her arm to the extent that—although she had only a C-cup (for she was of a bottom-heavy figure and build [as was I])—I caught glimpses of her tit (even her nipple!) every time her antics had me facing her from the side. And, of course, the back and forth that transpired during this awkward circumstance went something like:
“Ash, you were moaning about—”
After verbally vomiting a bunch of incoherent noises to interrupt me, my sister then said, “I know—I know—I know…!” (Nearly silent in her shame:) “…You don’t have to tell me, Jennifer—I already know…”
“How am I related to you?” I scolded her ever so cruelly—attempting to distance myself from the fact I was secretly throbbing beneath my skirt (as well as dripping copious amounts of pre-cum) at the very thought… “…How do we even share the same blood?”
(Having wrestled her jeans into submission [despite the fact she could zip and not button them]; fighting back escort ataşehir the urge to cry from sheer humiliation as her voice became somewhat ragged before angry:) “You don’t have the right to talk to me that way.” Standing up, she neared and we were face to face—her voice so full of indignation as she said, “I’m a person, too, you…” (Getting lost in my eyes; choking on the incoherent babble her words had become; unconsciously gravitating closer and closer towards me; practically salivating; close enough for me to catch a whiff of the strangely attractive mixture of pheromone-filled sweat and flowery, yet “spicy” smelling perfume that shrouded her; her voice now so innocent—alluding to the sensitive and vulnerable little girl I knew she was at heart [despite being 21]:) “…Jennifer…”
Pulling away—though not backing away, mind you—as she neared, I replied, “Ashley…”
Our faces so close, I—not her, but I…!—kissed her softest, lubricious-from-lip-gloss lips and she was soon melting in my arms—returning each and every little kiss with one so hapless and hopeless of her own. But—despite that her lips were beyond the delicate perfection of satin, velvet, and every other material of that luxurious sort combined!—I (so ungrateful; so careless; so insensitive and cruel!) snorted after a moment’s hesitation, “…Ew…”
And it crushed her. “…Ew?”
When she turned from me to sob (still in her bra and unbuttoned jeans), I embraced her from behind—and then, when she wouldn’t stop pulling away (when she wouldn’t return to me as we both needed her to!), I found myself kissing into the nape of her neck. I soon had her purring, and then—trying to be as playful as possible—I cooed (unaware of what I was doing—only wanting her to stop being so hurt [because I’m the strong and protective one, after all!]), “Ew, my sister’s yummy cooties…!”
“You’re ew—you’re the one with cooties!” she retorted while reaching back to tickle, jab, and prod at my side. (One of my hands having roved to the front of her jeans—the other clutching her breast; looking back at me with eyes all but watering with wonder; her breathing so prominent and heavy—her chest rising and falling under my loving, lustful touches—from my fingers having crawled down her pants… then her panties—and then it was my hand reaching in, my fingertips rubbing the base of her hairless shaft; staring me dead in the eye with a myriad of unspoken desires—only one, so precious and yet so blunt, able to surface:) “…Fuck me…”
Retracting my hand, I pat her bare belly, wrapped my arm about her torso (away from her breast, where it had previously been all this time), and declared—resting my face against her shoulder as I did (my voice as desirous as hers—save for its confusion), “But we’re sisters, Ash… Fraternal, twin sisters, if you don’t remember…”
“But not every sister shares such an immense secret,” she was referring to our naughty bits (those same naughty bits that regrettably kept us from having boyfriends—or any form of a normal life, for that matter…), “and not every sister touches herself every night to the thought of her little sister.”
“Hey, I’m younger than you by like a minute,” was my cool reminder. “…You really do that—you really touch yourself to the thought of me every single night?”
“…How could I not, Jen?”
(Holding her tight from behind; not wanting to hurt her or let her go; perplexed by the rush of unrequited hormones [albeit those of the incestuous variety, it seems] that filled my veins and wanted me to say yes—but also plagued by the conscience and its morals which wanted me to say no… if only out of principle alone:) “I don’t know, Ash,” I kissed her some more—though we could both tell they weren’t as intimate or sincere as they were before (that I was doing them almost out of obligation). “I’m not saying no, Ashley… but I need some time to think—or we need some time; taking it slow…”
Slow enough for me to think.
I felt guilty; what’s worse was the fact I felt guilty for being so shameless; for being so uninhibited… for being so licentious. I wanted to feel disgusting—as I started sleeping in the same bed as my sister, either spooning her or her spooning me, I wanted to be repulsed that our bare flesh touched so frequently… and that I could feel only lust and desire because of it. Could I truly blame the fact neither of us had ever had a boyfriend—or was it that I lusted the feeling of her hair upon my face as I nuzzled her; the scent of her sweat throughout the humid night; the taste of her lip gloss; the way her perfume made me drip pre-cum as it did now that I associated it with being so close to her in the most intimate of ways? Oh and how I lusted each of these—as well as so much more… all the unspeakably incestuous things we did and wanted (no, needed!)—so, so much!
Bringing my hand to her breast—where I could feel her lack of a bra through her nightshirt—Ashley cooed (her voice as equally salacious as it was precious), “Please touch me, Jen—I understand kadıköy escort bayan you want to go slow… but we’re going too slow…! Oh god!” she moaned when I complied with her decadent demands. “—You have no idea how horny I get; fuck, how horny you make me; how horny I am for you—my own sister…!” (In a whispered, lascivious hiss; redirecting my hand to her crotch; grating her scantily clad ass against my prick [which was so hard it maddened me!]:) “Fuck, Sis… you make me throb and leak.” (Unsheathing her cutest, uncircumcised erection to grind it between the waistband of her panties and the frictionless flesh of her pelvis and stomach; introducing my fingertips to its tip so I could feel it dribble its hot wetness against my skin; her body heat getting noticeably hotter and hotter with each sigh to escape from her quivering lips; her voice shaking as her entire body vibrates in carnal neediness:) “Jen—fuck, you make me feel like I could just cum… where my cock is so full… even though I’m honestly so far from an actual orgasm…”
“Don’t you think this is…” I couldn’t finish my sentence—knowing full well that, if I did, I could no longer pretend I was in denial about how taboo our trysts were.
“What—wrong?” my sister finished it for me. “Jennifer,” she insisted that I wrap my index finger and thumb around the head of her pulsating prick—pre-ejaculate practically pouring from her vent due to my most forbidden of touches, “that’s exactly why it feels so good—that it’s so, so wrong…” (Squirming; pouting; panting; moaning [and somehow all at once in her coy, babyish fussiness!]:) “The shame is so sweet to me…” With her lower lip protruding out, she pleaded, “Please, Jenny—please fuck me…!”
Confiding in her, I replied, “Ashley, I’m twenty-one and I’ve never been with anyone before… I don’t know what to do—or, well, I have a general idea, but… I guess I’m scared.”
(Slipping her panties down to showcase her naked ass; gliding her hands all about it to tease me; pushing and prodding back against my pelvis with her butt cheeks while offering them—as well as her waist and hips—for me to seize to my heart’s content [which I, albeit ever so reluctantly, did—her skin so smooth and warm; and then fleshy and supple as I groped and gripped her all over in handfuls at a time before latching onto her hips as to grind her harder against me… having surrendered to her seductions]:) “There’s nothing to be scared of, Sis—oh!” she was almost startled upon feeling me grab her. “See…! Mm, just give into the lust—no matter how wrong; no matter how forbidden; no matter how fucking reprehensible… you have to give into your lust—into the rawest and most titillating of taboo temptations!”
“…What was it you were screaming about—you know, when I caught you finger-fucking yourself until you came all over your own chest and face to the thought of your own sister?”
Breathy; imitating herself in a hushed voice; throwing her head back as to dishevel her brunette locks and put her lips to my ear so that I could hear her whorish words with spine-tingling clarity; her hot breath rolling out upon my sensitive (probably flustered!) flesh, she groaned, “Oh my fucking god, Jenny—oh my… fucking… god, please stuff the butt of your butt-slut whore of a big sister…! Make me (your own sister; your own flesh and blood!) your little bitch—fuck my needy booty-hole until you fill me up so good and gooey so,” (this word released in an exaggerated groan of an exhale), “deep inside my slutty little ass…!”
“And that’s precisely why you want to fuck me, isn’t it?—Don’t even lie!”
Unveiling my pounding erection, I propped it up upon her crack and let it linger there—the head resting against the hardness of her tailbone—as I confessed in a gasp, “Yes… Ash—fuck, I just want to be inside you so fucking bad…!”
When she turned—removing my sensitively pulsating shaft from her ass—she almost had me whimpering until she said (while now nuzzling her face, cheeks, chin, and lips all over, upon, and against my cock), “Let me suck it first, baby.” (Gripping the base of my prick to control its every throb; alternating between squeezing and releasing so that I’d pound in her otherwise unyielding grip—my dick swelling and turning a purplish red as a result; sucking and squelching up and down one side of my shaft and then the other—where she switched sides by rolling her tongue around the head of my cock and by briefly tonguing the pre-cum from its vent; staring up naughtily into my eyes from below [I was now on my knees upon the bed and she hunched before me]—knowing full well of how insanely sexy she was being; thin lines of spittle [or maybe it was my pre-ejaculate?] loosely connecting the tip of my prick to her lips; her voice in a low, reverberating, and a salaciously amused, perversely proud chuckle:) “Mm, I’ve got you so turned on, don’t I? …You’re pumping all by yourself—so much pre-cum pouring out!—that you’re practically cumming already… and I’m not even doing escort bostancı very much, except for teasing and squeezing you.” She then laughed under her prominent breath (which sighed sexily out all hot and steamy upon the sensitivity of my shaft), “Let’s see how you react when I finally take you into my mouth…!”
A soft, tremulous whimper escaped my lips—though I tried to swallow it to no avail—as my sister wrapped her lips about my tip, then the entirety of my head, and suckled hard with wet, audible smacks of friction… before swallowing the first inch, and then the second, in long, rhythmic strides and bobs of her head forwards and downwards (retching slightly as she covered my cock in hottest spit—pumping my prick in upwards motions so that, whenever her hands would meet her face and chin, they’d briefly let go to take hold of my base and stroke up once more [one hand after the other; one always followed by the last and leading into the next]). “Oh my fucking god, Ash…! There’s no way you haven’t done this before—it’s either that (that you’ve done this many, many times before…!), or you’re an absolute natural!”
My thoughts and her response had me red-faced (more than I already was in the pleasure she pumped and sucked into me!) with seething jealousy:
Yielding—letting my prick pop lubriciously from her slavering mouth—my sister mewed (her tone just short of sinister), “Mm, well… Let me put it this way, Jenny: when you can’t take your pants off for a guy, you learn to take off his.” Before I could speak; suddenly having abandoned my cock with an intimate squelch of a goodbye kiss in order to turn completely around; arching her back while reaching behind herself to pull apart her ass cheeks; lowering her upper body as to raise her buttocks so it became easier for me to see the yawning pucker between them; her cheek pressed against the pillow as she looked back at me—innocently biting her lip in the naughtiest of ways, Ashley pleaded in a suggestive pout, “Please eat my butt, Sis—make it all wet and ready for when I let you fuck my virgin-tight little butthole as much and as fast and as hard as you want…!”
How could I refuse her when she was so undeniably tempting and titillating? Never before had I ever humored the thought of putting my mouth anywhere near anyone’s anus—but there I was, hunched forwards with my face between my own sister’s butt cheeks; my breath tickling the invisible, borderline nonexistent hairs of such a soft and smooth region (where I knew it tickled because she giggled in response to my every long, nervous exhale—or at least at first); I unconsciously—and then very much so consciously!—sniffed at the forbidden scent of her crack (before sneaking a reluctant lick on my way down); and was finally staring at her winking pucker face-to-face—practically in the eye!—before lolling out my tongue and embracing my sibling’s rectal rim with it… Upon being lavished zealously in the most fervent and frequent licks and laps—of which had Ashley swearing and shuddering (her voice and groans guttural in the most femininely sexual of manners)—my sister’s asshole alternated between clenching tight and gaping wide; and the longer I serviced it, the more she begged me to by reaching back to seize my head and bury it further into the ass she still managed to hold open for me with one hand. And the next time I caught a glimpse of her, she was grunting in rapid succession—my lips pursed about her pucker; my tongue threatening to puncture it as I sucked and squelched her asshole itself!—with her hair a disheveled mess sticking to the sweat of her fevered face.
But when my tongue wormed its way inside—her heart throbbing throughout the entirety of her anal cavity; her rectal walls pounding around, throbbing upon, and gripping my tongue ever so tight (indeed, tighter and tighter!)—she collapsed, parting from me as she did, in spasmodic ecstasy; and while she hadn’t yet cum—although practically as sensitive and squirmy as she would’ve been if she had!—she could take no more… unless “more” involved my cock (something she told me in incomprehensibly shivered and sighed pleas with her flustered face buried in a mound of blankets and bed sheets [her voice fairly muffled as a result]).
As her pelvis was dipping down into the bed—her knees bent so that her feet and calves were suspended in midair—I approached from behind, seized her hips as to steady myself and raise her ass so it could be more accessible to me (her legs still mostly in the aforementioned position), I readied my still spit-dripping shaft against her wet asshole… and, ever so slowly, began to sink inwards—immediately the two of us gasping in perfect synchronicity (though her fairly more exaggerated than I due to the difference between our pleasures) as her rectum opened up around my cock-head, invited it inwards, leisurely swallowed my first couple of inches, and her pulsing pucker squeezed my girth as though it was on a mission to either suffocate it or force out all its sperm. Then, I began to pump and buck my way in and out again and again—slowly at first, and then gradually picking up more and more speed and intensity with each and every thrust; my sister jolting away with every inwards lunge and rearing back with my every retreat (as if to gravitate towards me so I could thrust back in at once!).
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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