Ron Taylor - Hot for brother

They fucked perhaps six or seven times more that night, and their naked bodies were locked, either in a screw or in a hug, until they arose the next morning. Road crews had been out all night, clearing the snow off the highway, and the Turnpike was open to single-lane traffic again. As they got into his car and started toward Harrisburg and their mother's funeral, Rachel suddenly became oppressed by the abnormalness of what they'd done. She started to cry, and she scooted against him, and she said, "It can't ever happen again, Jon."

"Why not?" he asked her. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. And you know that I did, too. Why should we fight ourselves? Why can't we just do what gives us so much pleasure?"

"You know why," Rachel replied. "Because you're my brother and I'm your sister. Jesus, I wish we were strangers, so we could fuck and love and even get married. I'll never love anyone else the way I love you, but it has to stop, Jon. If we keep an, we'll only kill ourselves with wanting it all and not being able to have it."

After the funeral she went back to Pittsburgh, to her job. And she had missed two periods and been sick every morning for a couple of weeks before she worked up enough courage to go to a doctor. After that, she could only think of calling Jon, of telling him. "I'm pregnant," she sobbed into the telephone, "I'm pregnant!"

Then she'd have thought automatically of abortion, but an abortion was the property of back street butchers who killed most of their patients with rusty coat hangers. Rachel didn't know what to do. She quit her job and kept getting bigger and bigger.

"Twins," the doctor said, smiling. He thought she was married and respectable. He didn't know that her brother's seed had impregnated her belly. "Definitely twins."

"I'll give them up for adoption," she told Jon in her Pittsburgh apartment. "I'll go away and have my babies and give them up."

"No," he said, "you can't. They're my babies, too. Gad, I don't… yes. Yes! I do know!! We'll go away," he said, speaking fast. "We'll go away… not just you, but both of us. We'll go someplace no one knows us – the other end of the world if we have to – and we'll settle dawn together. You, me, and our children."

"That's crazy!" she said in panic. "We could never do that!"

"Of course we can," he replied. "We'll go to… we'll go to California. Everyone's going to California. We'll just blend into the crowd. Damn it, Rachel, I can't give you up. I won't give you up!"

And here, eighteen years later, they were. Him, her, their children. Their whole false life. So fragile a structure, so easy to bring down around hers and Jon's heads. But the twins were beautiful, and so was Jon and so, she knew, was she. He had a good job and they lived in a nice house in a nice suburban community, and this evening they were flying to Las Vegas for his company's semi-annual convention, and no one had ever suspected that they were anything but a typical, sickeningly wholesome and normal suburban married couple. Maybe – God, maybe they could get away with the whole thing after all! She turned beneath the shower spray, thinking about the deception and its success, and she beard a sound. The shower door opening.

"Oh," she said, turning. Jon stepped into the shower with his sister wife, his hands immediately reaching for her soap-foamy body. "Stop that," she warned, slapping ineffectually.

"I can't stop," he leered. "I never could, when it was you. The… the buns… you're too much, Rachel Messenger! I've got to have you again right now." He leaned toward her, dick rising with fresh lust.

"You're insatiable," she complained, "and if you persist, I know we're going to miss our plane." His cock touched her wet belly and she grabbed it with frothy, slippery hands. "I'm telling you," she said again, "we'll miss our plane for sure!" her body rocked against his and he caught her by the ass while she went onto tiptoes to kiss him. His cock throbbed in her hand and she petted it possessively.

It was incest, and it had always been and always would be; but it was a special kind of incest because they were special people. The standard laws and morals didn't apply to them. Her nipples erected where her tits rubbed his chest and Rachel didn't protest when he leaned her against the interior wall of the shower compartment. Her legs parted willingly and ion began to tease her cunt with the end of his prick. "Just a quick one," he told her. "We'll still make the plane."

"Mmmm-hmmm," Rachel purred.

"Mmmm-hmmmm."

At about the same time her parents were fucking in the kitchen, Amy Messenger was several miles from the tennis court. She was lying on a patch of cool grass in a shady, secluded canyon north of town, her coppery red hair fanned out around her head, and that nice Carver boy from school was very busy licking and sucking the reddish smears of nipples that graced her perky young titties. "Ooooohhhh, Steve," she called in a high, keening voice, her eyes winking open and shut as she savored the attacks of his mouth.

Her nips were limber, red erections, and his lips closed upon them with a vengeance, pulling and twisting as he cupped and fondled her breasts from beneath. Amy was naked except for her panties and tennis shoes. Her white top and skirt lay a few feet away, where they'd fallen when Steve Carver began the delicious process of undressing the willing young girl.

He raised his mouth from her tits, eyes seeking hers. Spittle gleamed on his lips and on Amy's nipples, and her breasts were marked by his teeth, not to mention the red sucker bites that marred her perfect flesh. That was nothing new. Amy was eighteen and she'd been around.

"Kiss me!" she commanded, and he rose to do her bidding. His hands grabbed her breasts, and she arched from the ground so that his palms filled with her squeezable boobs. The nipples were wet and hard against his flesh, and his mouth was wet and soft upon hers. She stuck her tongue into his mouth, jamming it in the way he liked her to do, and he began to suck it the same erotic way he'd sucked her breasts.

"Mmmmm!" Amy sighed, opening her legs so Steve could work one of his between them. She felt his hard muscular thigh saw up and down her crotch, and a tingle radiated from the point of contact, all through her hot young body. They were lying in the shade, but after a moment of that, she felt as warm as if the California sun had been directly overhead, bathing them in its glare. Her thighs closed when his leg was between them, and she clutched at his flesh, drawing it into her even as her hands wrapped round his head and shoulders, pulling him closer, closer, closer.

He kneaded and massaged the firm but limber apples of her tits, fingers digging into her dainty feminine skin, and she knew that he was hot too, as hot as he'd ever been since they began to date. Date? she thought. I told Mom we were going to play tennis. But the only balls that were gonna be socked back and forth… God almighty, he was up big and hard, wasn't he?

Steve ground his loins against her hipbone, treating Amy to a full-frontal feel of the bulge in his pants. She had to admit he was pretty well-hung. He was also a bit stuck-up about it, always wearing tight pants to show off his crotch, and the first time she'd ever gone out with dm, he'd guided her hand to his lap almost as soon as she had her seat belt buckled. They were hardly out of the driveway!

"How do you like this one?" he'd asked her, pressing her fingers down so she couldn't help but feel his most prized possession.

"How do you like this?" she asked in reply, unzipping him. Her hand shot into his pants. He was half-cocked as she began, but before they'd gotten past the first stop light Steven was ragingly erect and virile. They went to a drive-in theater, undid the seat belts and played with each other; but Amy took special tantalizing care not to let him get off. Not yet.