Michael Rennie - Hungry For Sister

Paul was wriggling and shivering. A hot puddle of semen was accumulating at the base of his cock, gathering in the muscular pocket like a lava pool at the base of a volcano. The pressures were building and building and building. All the sensations of the blow job were melting together-the feel of her pumping mouth, the feathery touch of her hair, the tickling of her fingers around and under his balls. It was all coming together into one searing knot of pleasure.

His cock fired. The first spurt of semen blasted vertically, straight up his prick, and into her waiting mouth.

Judy felt the thrusting squirm of the prick in her mouth and slurped up the hot blob of sperm-loaded liquid and jammed her mouth down on the pulsing, pumping tower of meat. The cock in her mouth spasmed and quivered with every pulse of semen it shot into her. She wedged the spurting tip into her working throat as she absorbed the gummy waves of semen, letting them pour down her throat into her stomach where they again formed a hot pool.

Paul was rigid. Every muscle in his body was helping to pump his cum. He quivered in the throes of an orgasm that blazed through him like lightning. Adding to the sheer, excruciating physical pleasure of unloading his semen, was the mental joy of knowing the girl in front of him was taking the load in her mouth and letting it pour down to her stomach. He could see how her lips grasped and embraced his convulsing prick, squirming as she swallowed and swallowed and swallowed. And the swallowing, peristaltic contractions of her tongue and throat massaged his spurting prick like no vagina in the world ever could.

Paul kept cumming and cumming and cumming until there was nothing left.

His muscles kept convulsing in carnal dry heaves until his pleasure began to turn to an ache. Then Judy was sucking the last dribbles out of his prick, spitting it out, and sitting back on her heels. His contented mood was suddenly spoiled by the sight of the inner curves of her breasts where the raincoat had spread open to reveal them. There were dark marks, almost bruises, on the pale flesh.

"What're those marks on your breasts?" he asked, worried.

Judy glanced down, then quickly pulled the raincoat closed to conceal the marks her brother's fingers had left. "The damn buttons on the mattress," she lied, thinking quickly. "I'm probably scarred for life."

"They look more like marks from someone's hand," Paul argued.

"Well they aren't!" she snapped. "Cripes, you're really getting suspicious, aren't you? I just sucked you dry, what more do you want?"

Paul tried to rein in his jealousy. "Sorry," he apologized softly.

Judy struggled to her feet, ignoring the sight of his limp, spit-coated cock. "Think you ought to be going?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"After all, you did get what you came for, didn't you?" she sniped nastily.

Paul stood and pulled his pants up. "I'll sure be glad when this whole thing is over and done with," he remarked. "Maybe then you'll start being decent to me again."

"Me be decent to you! I just gave you a blow job, didn't I?"

"Sure, after I twisted your arm," he snorted. "Look, don't do me any favors, if that's the way you feel."

"That's the way I feel," Judy retorted.

"Good! After we split the money, that'll be it," Paul informed her. "You go your way and I'll go mine. I thought for a while there everything was all straight between us. Obviously it isn't."

"I guess not," she agreed.

"I'll see you tonight," Paul snapped, heading for the door.

After he slammed out, Judy headed for the bathroom to rinse her mouth out. Then she sat down and glared at the television.

"We did it!"

Judy leaped out of the chair at the triumphant cry from the back door.

The raincoat flapping around her legs, she sped through the swinging door and collided head-on with Harry Anderson.

"WE DID IT!" he bellowed even louder, bouncing back from her and capering wildly around the kitchen. He was swinging a small suitcase in wild sweeps that threatened every breakable fixture in the room.

"Two hundred frigging thousand frigging dollars right here in this suitcase!" he chortled in sanely. "Two hundred grand! Two hundred super big ones!"

Judy was stunned. Somehow, she had never really contemplated the reality of what they were doing. For days she had been at the very core of the entire plot, and now it was done, over with. "Are-are you sure?"

Harry paused in the midst of his wild dance, the suitcase poised overhead in one hand. "Sure? Of course I'm sure. Right here, right in here, right in this suitcase. I watched your mother leave it right where she was supposed to leave it. Then I waited until I got the high sign from Paul that the coast was clear, strolled over and picked it up. Just picked it up, this suitcase, this one, the one right here, with two hundred thousand bucks in it."

Judy had trouble getting her voice to work well. "Are you-are you sure the money's in there?"

Harry turned pale, and his freckles stood out boldly. "Of course I'm sure," he said in a choked voice. He lowered the suitcase to the table reverently. "I'll show you."

Before he could open the suitcase the back door banged open, making both him and Judy jump with shock.

"Is that it?" Paul asked, looking greedily at the suitcase.

"That's it," Harry answered confidently.

"We were just going to open it and make sure," Judy added cautiously.

"What else could it be!" Paul exclaimed. "Come on, open it up."

"Where is it, where is it, where is it," Cynthia babbled, sailing in through the back door, into the kitchen. "Is that it? Is that it?"

"That's it," Harry repeated.

"HOLD IT!" Mike ordered from the doorway.

"Aw, for the love of…" Harry complained. "Were any of you followed?"

Mike asked. "If you were, we'll all have to split right away."

"I wasn't," Harry said confidently.

"Neither was I," Cynthia assured him. "I doubled back three times to make sure."

"What about you, Paul?" Mike asked.

"Shit no, I wasn't followed," Paul snapped. "Come on, Harry, open the damn suitcase al ready."

Harry shot Mike a nervous glance, his hand on the latch of the suitcase.

Mike closed the door carefully. "Open it up," he ordered calmly.

There wasn't even the sound of breathing as Harry snapped the latch open. All five held their breath as they stood around the table. Harry's hands shook as he slowly lifted the lid of the suitcase and folded it back.

"Jesus Christ!" Paul swore softly.

"Ssheeeeiiit!" Harry wheezed.

"Ooooohhhhhh," Cynthia sighed.

Judy swallowed. Never, in her entire life, had she seen so much money.

Neatly stacked in the suitcase were bundles of fives, tens, and twenties. They were held together with rubber bands. They were not new.

The bills were all old, and worn, just as they had instructed.

"Jesus Christ!" Paul repeated, reaching for one of the bundles. Picking up a stack of twenty-dollar bills, he fanned through them wonderingly.

Without taking her eyes off the fantastic pile of money, Judy sidled around the table to get a snuggle from her brother. He put his arm around her. While Paul, Harry and Cynthia pawed through the cash, Judy and Mike just stared at it. Until this moment it had all seemed like some silly, childish, risky game. But now, right in front of them, was the end result of all of Judy's days of forced solitude and loneliness.

Right there, being slowly strewn on the table by six pawing hands, was their ticket to escape from their hated stepfather. Right there was the final insurance that guaranteed a life time of happiness.

"Oh, Michael," Judy purred, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, pressing her soft, warm, sensuous body against his. Something about the sight of all that money was making her feel all hot and passionate.