Ron Taylor - Hot for brother

As if he really thought she would! As if he really, truly thought – Mmmm? What would he do, what would he say, what would he think if… Oh, have I got a surprise for you, hot stuff! Amy thought with an explosion of smugness. See how long you can keep on playing Joe Cool now! With a sniff of disdain she shrugged he shoulders, then pulled up her skirt again. Alex's eyes flashed at her, and she saw doubt in them – as if he weren't sure of what he was seeing.

And then she let go of her pussy, hand finally relaxed enough to break its hold, and she didn't have to look at him to know that Alex was staring directly at her bare snatch, auburn fuzz matted from her juice, squashed down by her palm. She didn't have to look because she heard him gasp – a gasp of honest, unfeigned surprise. "Uh," he said, "I think I'll go…"

"Stay where you are," Amy replied, eyeing her cunt. "You asked for it, so get your Goddamned eyes full."

Who's the big grown-up sophisticate now? she wondered, closing her eyes as she slid a slender finger up and down the wet, itchy slice of her puss. It felt good – it always did – but somehow the sensation was much more exciting and fulfilling now, when she knew that he was staring, when she could hear him breathing harder and harder, when she knew that her twin was watching Amy toy with the swollen puff of her twat. She used her fingers on her cunt and shivers of delight ran up and down her backbone.

And when she dared finally to slip the tip of one finger into the mouth of her pussy again, a triumphant feeling swept overpoweringly across Amy Messenger. Sometimes she diddled herself while sucking Steve – she'd done it this afternoon – but Steve was always so wrapped up in her sucking that he scarcely noticed what she might be doing for her own satisfaction. She'd never performed like this for an audience. And from the rapid, husky tone of his breathing, Alex was definitely an interested audience. She wanted to open her eyes, to look at his face as he watched her, but for the moment Amy was too enraptured by her own reactions. Kittenish purrs trilled from her fluttering lips and she could feel her nipples stiffening beneath the white tennis top. They were stiffer, perhaps, than they had ever been before in all her life. Amy's tits ached with a swollen yearning need, and she was compelled to remove one hand from her pussy and bring it to her boobs' relief. Cupping each mound in turn, she squeezed and fondled, hoping to soothe away the aching muscle knots, still working a long, slender middle finger in and out of her juicing snatch in slow, sensuous incursions. Her tits ached, but it was a different kind of aching – an erotic passionate throb that she didn't want to quell because it felt so God damned good!

"Ohh… y-y-yyeesssss!" she moaned, legs flexing and twisting atop the coffeetable. The heels of her tennis shoes thumped now and then, and she was vaguely aware that she was also kicking magazines onto the floor. Sweat bubbled through the pores of her skin and, underneath the damp, clinging tennis atop, her tits cooked in the heated perspiration of Amy's body. She squeezed at the thin cloth and the fruitlike treasures it concealed, sighing when her lingers brushed across the unmistakable punches of erect nipples. From her cleavage, from her armpits, above all from her vagina, the air was scented with the tangy, musky scent of her self induced arousal. It's crazy, she thought, doing this in front of Alex, but he dared me and I… I can't stop – not even if I fucking wanted to stop!

"God, God, God, God, God," she chanted, jabbing her finger up her pussy with little care for the sanctity of the hymen inside. She moaned as she felt her digit bruising and abusing the tender flesh of her cherry, but again the pain was a delicious sensation which only stirred Amy to be even more ruthless with herself. Little flows of girl-cum oozed from her twat as she finger fucked it, and her clitty was so tense and sensitive now that she couldn't endure the prospect of touching it directly. Her thumb contented itself with making swift, fleeting circles round the clitoral prepuce, and the jarring shocks which regularly vibrated across her love button made goose bumps on her golden bare arms and thighs.

"Amy, for God's sake, cut it out!" he whispered from across the room – a frail, fleeting whisper, but her senses were so heightened that it sounded as if he were shouting the words into her ear. She knew that the moment was almost upon her – she could feel it building in her heart, in the churning pit of her belly – and for some reason Amy couldn't quite fathom, she wanted Alex to see the rapturous convulsions which possessed his sister when orgasm enfolded her lithe young body.

And in another moment she was past caring, past knowing. All she could do was feel the climactic explosions which rippled through her frame, radiating from the molten core of her sex. She jammed her finger up her cunt as far as it would go, snaking it between the contracting muscle spasms, and her thumb pressed down upon her button as if it were a trigger. Her ass bounced up and down on the sofa cushions, her legs stiffened, relaxed, stiffened again, as numb wooziness spread from her hipbones to toes. Amy groaned once, she moaned a great many times, and tears of salty joy spilled down her cheeks. Beneath her thumb, Amy's clit ached with a raw, ripped-out intensity, but a cunt can only feel so much before response is inadequate to the situation, and in a few morn heartbeats her entire body was humming in peaceful relaxation. It was always this way after getting off, and she knew that she was damp and flushed and glowing too. Amy basked in that feeling for a while before opening one eye to check out Alex's reaction.

"Well?" she started to say, but one look at her brother and she was unable to say anything else.

It was like staring at a stranger, with all the consequent surprise and embarrassment to both parties. Alex was scarlet, except for the whites of his bulging eyes, and his mouth gaped open, tongue tip slightly protruding. He gripped the arms of his chair with white-knuckled hands, and she could see how his fingers quivered and jerked as he tried to steady himself. His feet were on the floor, but not completely. They moved in little spastic tremors, as if he were taking baby steps and getting nowhere. If she hadn't known he was healthy as a home, she'd have sworn he was a probability for an imminent coronary.

"Oh, God, Alex, is something wrong with you?" she asked in true concern. Springing to her feet, brushing back disordered hair with one hand, Amy hurried to him. She dropped to the floor beside his chair, put her hands on his knees to help steady his trembling.

"Say something, for God's sake!" she implored, looking up at him.

He shook his head, eyes still enormous. Finally Alex exhaled, a long whoosh of breath, and some of the redness began to leave his features. "I didn't say 'Simon Says'," he said throatily, his voice strained.

Maybe it wasn't very funny. Amy laughed all the same, a silvery, high-pitched giggle that made her feel much better, and she drew back one fist to give him a gentle tap in the breadbasket. "Oh, Lord," she said, giggling again. "It looks like you have a problem, younger brother!"

She'd been so intent on his face and its unhealthy color and expression that she'd seen nothing else. But now, kneeling before him, eyes slightly downcast, there was no way Amy could have remained ignorant of the condition of Alex's body.

The lower portion of his silk robe was tented up, lifted very high by the unmistakable pole of an erection. She looked at his face again, her lips curled in unspoken question, and he was starting to blush again. Not in a long, long time had she been so immediately aware of how much she and Alex looked like one another. It was almost like staring into a mirror. The resemblance was uncanny and very disarming.