Sister’s Affections

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Act I–Forbidden Sights

“Bloody hell, Bran,” Lucille cried out as he walked into her room. The door was only half-closed, and so Brandyn figured she was not doing anything; he never thought of his little sister doing these things, hell, he himself was not doing these things, not alone nor with others.

Sprawling on her bed in glorious nakedness, illumined by the caress of the lonely candle’s orange flame, Lucille held a hand between her thighs. Her breasts, not small but not large either, heaved with every shallow breath and beads of sweat slid down her gentle chin and neck into the vale between them. The nipples, pink and flushed into red in the glow of the flames, were erect and tantalising. Brandyn swallowed hard.

“Bloody hell,” she said again, not covering her naked body, as her eyes took him in. A blush suddenly settled in her face and she spun about in her bed, pushing up the covers. Her rear was to him for a moment and he saw that which was between her legs, the wet and pink flower of her womanhood. He could not look away from that moist hole, and soon Brandyn felt something hard beating against his thighs, against his leather pants. By the time Lucille covered herself that very same blush came to him, too.

“I’m so sorry, Luci,” he said in a harried tone and felt his face burning even more. The hardness between his legs threatened to rip apart his pants; the pain from the leather pressing against it was unbearable and Brandyn ached for little more than to release it. “I didn’t mean to… I–“

“Get out!” Lucille screamed, her face scarlet. “Get out now, you perverted freak!” She threw something at him, something moist that left a trail of slick liquid along his leather vest. The smell of it made him harder. The thing she threw fell to the floor in a hard, wooden thump, then Lucille screamed again. “Get out of my room, pervert!”

Brandyn ran and ran, accelerating till he reached the stairs. He took them two at a time, all the while muttering “fuck, fuck, fuck,” under his breath. He only praised the fortune that none were home save him and Lucille as he closed the door behind his back. With one hand he practically ripped the leathers trousers off, and locked the door with the other, all the while letting out a long sigh at his manhood being released from the lace-bound leather prison.

The mental image of his sister sprawling on her bed, touching herself at night, came to Brandyn’s mind and the blood rushed down, filling and erecting his manhood further. “What king of a sick bastard am I,” he asked in a whisper as the engorged piece of flesh and blood, his flesh and blood, pulsated in the cold air.

He always kept his room cool, cool and airy, and many times the other occupants of the house–Lucille and Myra, his sister and mother, and George the goldsmith and Gloria the herbwoman–complained of it. “It’s too cold here, Bran,” they said, but he paid no heed to that. It was a small, almost fetish-like thing he adored; being cooped up in the pilot’s cabin at one of the zeppelins was not something one could do with air or chill.

The better half of an hour passed and still the need in him raged. Laying flat on his back in his bed, Brandyn began stroking himself. “Better to end it now,” he figured.

Groaning and grunting at the pleasure of it with every squeezing motion of his hands, he could not come to that sweet release of ecstasy. Brandyn never engaged in this delight alone, always with a woman under him, or over him, or before him, but never alone. He groaned in disbelief as the mental image of Lucille came to his mind again. Then his seed spurted out in unimaginable speed and ferocity. He had to bite his lower lip as to not make a sound, not to shout out “Lucille!” as he orgasmed.

Laying on his back, half-covered in his semen, Brandyn’s mind began to wonder–was there truly something wrong in viewing one’s sister as attractive? Was it truly vile and disgusting to think of pleasuring her with his hands, with his mouth, with all he had? Was it not merely another face of love, that act men and women do in the darkness of the night, that act which leaves the two breathless and craving for more?

Act II–Downward Spiral

Next he knew the sun came and and George was beating at his door. “Wake up, sleepy-head!”

“What time is it?” Brandyn asked, his voice groggy and his mind still in a fog. He quickly jumped out of the beg, only to discover his pants were tangled between his legs and his shirt and smallclothes soiled with his own seed. There was a thump when he fell, but Brandyn quickly regained control of himself and threw off the clothes, replacing them with fresh ones.

“It’s seven-sharp, man,” George’s voice came in a worried manner. “Are you alright, Bran?”

He czech gangbang porno must be talking about that thump, Brandyn thought as he laced the fresh trousers. “I’m fine, just a bit groggy I think. Have a splintering headache, though.”

George laughed. “Small wonder your head hurts if a fall like that is a thing you’re used to. Are you coming down to eat?”

The answer George received was the opening of a door to a small crack and Brandyn slipping out with rare skill. He was always a lean man, and could fit in places were other people could not–it was Gloria that said Brandyn could slip in the keyhole and reach the other side of the door, and although that was far-fetched Brandyn could indeed slip in small and narrow spaces.

“Where’s mother,” Brandyn asked in the form of small-talk when they all sat around the table. “I haven’t seen her in days now, and I begin to worry.”

Gloria and George shared a smile, then the herbwoman turned to Brandyn. “You need not worry about Myra, Bran. She spends her days chasing skirts and wallets, a penis rarely attached to them.”

He frowned at her blunt remark, but it was Lucille that spoke first. “Ma is not a whore.”

“I never said–“

“She is not a whore, Gloria,” Lucille said again. The herbwoman looked to be abashed by his sister’s tone, and so Brandyn felt the urge to interfere.

“So, what did you do last night, Gloria?”

The herbwoman grinned at him, more than half of her toothy smile born of thanks for the interruption. She told them all in explicit detail of all she had done last night; how she went to the library, how she sought out the meaning of several archaic words and the like, and before she finished the three–Lucille, George and Brandyn himself–had already left the table.

“And what did you do last night?” she asked suddenly.

Brandyn arched his back and felt a tingle of worry climb along his spine. Did Lucille tell her of what happened, of how he saw her naked and not only that he did not look away but was also excited of seeing that? Did his sister betray him? No, he refused to believe that. A glance at Lucille told that she did not tell, as her face was flushed with red and both shame and surprise were in her blue eyes.

“Not much,” George answered, and both Brandyn and Lucille breathed out in relief.

The following days past slow and tiring, and at times Brandyn again felt the urge to pleasure himself to the mental image of his sister, of Lucille. He always imagined her in that bed, her legs flailing in the air as she slipped a finger into her moist hole. Biting her lips softly as she orgasmed, Lucille invited him to join… he released several loads to these thoughts, but soon it was not enough.

He grew out of these images in a matter of mere days and frustration began to overwhelm him. Lost in the throes of his despair, Brandyn suddenly remembered. “The vest!”

He sniffed it and jerked himself, the pleasure intensified with the scent Lucille left on it. But it, too, was not enough. Nothing was enough. Determined to find something to relieve his urge for her, Brandyn snuck into her room and rummaged through the drawers, seeking for it. He found it quickly, and it still had her scent about it. He tasted it once the excitement of the smell faded, licking the residue of her orgasm off the fabric of her smallclothes and off the wooden sex-toys. It was a most exciting thing for him, a most taboo thing, and the shame of it quickly faded back into the far corners of his mind, where it lay dying as he repeatedly pleasured himself.

Brandyn always loved Lucille, he was always fond and protective of his little sister, and more than once bathed naked with her, though it was only in their youth. The passion he held for her, the need that burned in him to have her in his arms, to hold her and touch her warm flesh, to caress her hair… It gnawed at him, always there, always present. He didn’t care; Brandyn loved Lucille, and to him it seemed only natural that the love he felt will evolve into that burning urge to put himself inside her, to release his seed into her.

A week passed before Brandyn finally decided he wanted his sister, and not in the proper, restrained brotherly manner.

Act III–Rape of a Maiden

Several weeks passed, flying by, and every night Brandyn tried to work up the courage and have Lucille for himself. It was an agonising pain, not to have her in his arms, not to feel her warmth against him. Every night he could hear her moaning and panting through the floor, whispering “Brandyn, come and have me.” But not until now things were so perfectly aligned: George was visiting relatives somewhere in the north, two zeppelins away, Gloria was studying again, czech harem porno and God knew where dear mother was and what she was doing.

He felt the need in him burn as he saw her, but he did not act immediately upon it. Instead, he waited.

It was midnight when Brandyn climbed down the stairs, as deft as a thief, and snuck through the small crack into which her door was opened. Lucille was rubbing herself furiously, her back arched and her groin jutting into the nighted air of her room. Several candles lit the place, a glum orange glow settling everywhere. It coloured her skin into a deep shade of ivory, her eyes into amber and her lips into the most luscious red.

She was him, he knew she did, but she did not stop. She spread her legs with a high-pitched moan and a shrill, than she squirted. Brandyn had never seen a woman squirt before, never imagined the flushed face Lucille had now, never imagined that shriek of half-pleasure half-mind-blowing-orgasm. “Happy now?” she asked.

“Not quite,” Brandyn replied and moved forward, well into the light. The stark tone of his own voice surprised him. He was completely naked and already precum formed on the tip of his manhood. Judging by the look of surprise she had on her face, Lucille did not expect such a brazen approach.

“You’re quite big,” she said and gulped as he advanced. Her eyes were wide as she took him in. Brandyn always liked to think of himself as bigger than most, and the approval of that fact, doubly so as it came from someone he loved and trusted, made him proud and joyous. He grinned as Lucille touched him. Her hands were cold and wet, but he only flinched a little. He judged she could probably have two more arms and still her small hands would not completely encircle his length and girth. “Do you like this brother?”

Lucille’s hands moved around his flesh, caressing and fondling and gently squeezing, all with the expertise of a master, or a mistress, in this case. Brandyn held back a moan and arched his back as he held in the load of semen. I’ll build it up, he decided. “Stop,” he held back her hands while returning to himself.

Lucille was always beautiful, as far back as he could remember. “What a beautiful girl,” others used to say as their mother walked about with them, the siblings holding hands. Lucille had pale blue eyes that seemed to take in the colour of what she gazed at; a lean face with a cute nose and lips to die for made what was visible with clothes on, and a pair of perfect breasts, with nipples so sweet and inviting Brandyn would die a thousand deaths for them. He would die more for her kisses, and much more for her touch.

“Put it in your mouth,” he said in a commanding manner and Lucille glared up. He glared down. Then Lucille grinned. “Of course, Bran.”

Her tongue slid across the head, licking and caressing with a touch velvet was envy of. Even gossamer would be envy of my sister, Brandyn thought with distorted pride as he took her by the hair. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. She drew a breath, knowing what is to come now. “Take it all in, now.”

She gagged on the immense amount of flesh in her mouth, but not giving up Lucille continued to take him into her, into her throat. Her tongue slid gracefully along the girth of him in her mouth, along the length of his shaft outside the mouth. Slobber covered his erect manhood and he found himself holding back again and again, over and over, as she sucked and licked and touched and fondled.

The realisation Lucille knew well how to do such things struck him at a disadvantage. Of course she had a man in her mouth, you fool, Brandyn scolded himself. She’s a beautiful woman, a very beautiful woman, and it should be of no surprise she knows that–men want her. You want her. Yet the realisation that his sister was no different from other women was somehow hurting him. He always viewed her as a perfect creature, a pure creature, something to adore and darkly crave for. Yet had others before him.

“Gah! Fuck! Yes, Lucille! Fuck!” Brandyn grunted as he released a thick load of his seed in her mouth.

Lucille’s eyes widened in horror at this new thing she felt, this new and forced experience. At least they didn’t finish in her mouth, he though with grim satisfaction. His manhood still held to full length and the hunger for her still gnawed at Brandyn even after he pulled it out of her mouth.

“What the bloody fuck, Bran?” she asked, gagging. Tears were in her eyes, wetting the make-up she wore. He did not realise she had anything. Lines of jet-black liquid stained the lines of her face, rolling to her cheeks and from her chin, joining the white rivers that ran from her mouth. She was still gagging as she spoke. “Why the fuck did czech sharking porno you cum in my mouth? You pervert. You sick, fucking pervert!”

Hearing her curse made his blood boil and his urges rise. In a sudden burst of a great desire, Brandyn flung his sister across the bed and put her over his knee. “The blood fuck are you doing now? Going to spank me?” Her cheeks were red, and a wetness was between her legs. She enjoyed taking him in her mouth.

Brandyn put a hand to her rear, repeating it forcefully every few seconds. “You were a bad girl, Luci. You should not use such foul language when talking to your loving brother.” She screamed with every strike, but he knew she like it. She loved it, in fact, and orgasmed after a few minutes of it. Her entire body shook with the force of it and a stream of something warm and wet touched his legs.

Lucille cried. “You bastard. It hurts…” The breath left her lungs as Brandyn threw her off of him and unto the beg. Lucille’s rear was red and sore and her hands shook as she touched it. Black lines crossed her cheeks, staining the bedsheets now, and liquids still gushed from between her legs. She like it that much.

Brandyn gave her a wicked smile. “Than this is going to hurt a lot more!” Without a moment’s notice he leaped on her and grabbed the hair again. Pulling her hand backwards he licked her cheeks, tasting the salt of tears and the disgusting after-taste of her make-up. He kissed her. She spat. Then Brandyn put a hand between her legs.

She screamed in surprise, but he knew she wanted it. She craved him like he craved her; the memories of pleasuring himself in the cold dark of his room, listening to her cries of “Yes! Take me, Bran! Take me!” rushed to his mind, filling him with the need for her. Her warmth was beneath his now. Her body squeezed unto the bed under his.

“I know you want it, he said,” and plunged himself into the moist void between her legs. She bled and screamed as he pushed in and out, the red glowing orange in the waning light of the candle flames, as he fucked her.

Her arms flailed, hitting him and Brandyn was forced to restrain her wrists so that they both will enjoy it more. “Get off of me, bastard!” Lucille cried out and bit his wrists, the blood black as it soaked into the sheets. “Get off! Get off! You fucking pervert!”

Brandyn laughed. He knew she did not mean it. “I know you want it, sister. I want it, and it feels so good…”

“I was a virgin,” Lucille sobbed as he held her down and slammed himself into her. She panted and gasped in shock as the full length of his shaft entered, the she cried with the pleasure of it. Slap, slap, slap. His thighs clashed against her sore rear, prompting wails of clandestine pleasure from her lips. She sounded as if she truly cried, but Brandyn did not stop. He rammed himself into her with more force with every motion, with more ferocity, with more intent.

“I love you, Luci,” he whispered in her ear and released his seed side of her. “I love you. Now and always.” Brandyn’s manhood was hard still and demanded more of Lucille’s fine body. He pulled it out with a stream of his semen and her fluids, then he put the well-lubricated head of it against her anus.

Her cry was more intense now. “Please, do–” she screamed at the top of her lungs as he pushed it in. She was tight there, much tighter than the other hole, and Brandyn did not stop pounding. It felt right to. It felt good. He loved his sister and he was showing it now. He didn’t care if Myra or George or Gloria were to step in and see them two, lost in the throes of passion. He pounded and pounded and released himself inside again, delighting in Lucille’s cries.

Act IV–Finale

“I love you, brother,” Lucille said through the tears. Her eyes were green, taking in the colour of the bronze-adorned ceiling. Angels and demons were carved there, fucking each other, as lost in their passion as Brandyn and Lucille were just a few moments ago.

He playfully pinched her rear, making her yelp in the pain of it. “I love you too, sister,” Brandyn replied with a broad grin.

The window was fully open, drapes aside and all, letting in the moonlight to shine on the clandestine pair in their bed. Neither Brandyn nor Lucille cared as for whom will know of them, they only cared of each other, only of their love and their desire, as dark as it was. The steel-reinforced glove, the very one Brandyn used earlier that day, lay on the floor at the side of the bed, the shinning metal slick with blood and Lucille’s ejaculation as well a his own.

“Should we go again?” Brandyn asked, his manhood erect again, but Lucille replied with a gloved-hand against his cheek.

She pulled him by the hair and forced his head down between her legs, where it was slick with blood and semen. “Use your tongue to clean me up, Bran,” she ordered. The look in her eyes was playful and the grin on her face said as much, but Brandyn feared she will not let him hurt her again if he would refuse. He licked her, and she giggled.

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