John Kellerman
Sisters in heat

AB-5032

Robin smiled into the mirror, admiring her firm titties. She liked Saturdays. Liked this one too though something seemed to be missing. Stevie of course. He'd been gone a week now and though Mom and Dad had still not gotten over it, no one really talked about it. It was all so dumb. An argument over… what? Everyone had forgotten. But Steve had tossed all his things in his jeep and taken off. Robin knew where he was staying of course. A little apartment down by the river. Steve had made her promise not to tell the folks. He'd promised in return that she could come see him. This weekend!

Robin pulled a red T-shirt over her firm, small breasts and tucked it into her shorts. It was funny how a person got used to having someone around. Steve was a pretty neat brother. Weekends had always been a special time for her to fool around with her big brother. Steve had taught her a lot about auto-mechanics and she'd loved being able to do something that even a lot of boys couldn't cut. She could do a tune-up on the jeep easy now. Change a tire.

Steve was twenty-one, three years older than Robin. But Robin never felt like he pulled his age on her. He treated her as an equal. Though his friends generally didn't. Their looks embarrassed her sometimes. And she always made a defense by acting tomboyish.

She tied her tennies and went down the hall to the dining room. Her sister Marcia was brooding over a grapefruit, winding a strand of silky, brown hair around a forefinger. Marcia was just about to turn twenty-one. She'd been to college a few years and quit and come home. She'd tried a couple of secretarial jobs, quit and come home. She dated sometimes, but not much of late. Robin had never been too close to her, but lately they were practically like beings from two different planets.

"Hi, Marcia." Marcia was really a knockout. Even in the morning with a robe on she looked sexy.

"You look like you're going to a motorcycle race." Robin poured herself a glass of orange juice. She looked pleasantly across at her sis. She didn't mind Marcia's kidding.

"Nope." She finished the juice and found a half piece of toast. She felt Marcia's look.

"When are you going to start dating, Robin? I mean, don't you think it's about time you started to learn about men."

"I'm not so dumb about men." Robin chewed the toast.

"Yeah, I know," Marcia went on, "you fight with them and race them and all that kind of stuff."

"I don't fight with them."

"I bet you could though. I bet you hate males deep down inside. You're a person with deep mental problems, Robin. You're repressing your libido and sexual drives…" Marcia had come awake. She looked chair and ready for a long argument.

Robin swallowed the toast. She could see that Marcia was waiting for her to come back.

"You haven't had a whirlwind of dates yourself lately." The toast was stuck in her throat but Robin didn't let Marcia know. The orange juice helped.

"Oh, but I have one tonight. I've been saving everything for him." Marcia arched her eyebrows and quit fooling with her hair. Robin's sister was a regular beauty queen. She could see Marcia's large tits even through the terrycloth robe. "He drives a Continental. Not a new one, but one of those classics made in the forties." Marcia licked her lips. "White with leather seats."

Robin was impressed. She shrugged her shoulders. "Big deal. What is he, a tie salesman?" She could see that she'd gotten under Marcia's skin.

"Well, at least I won't be arm-wrestling him." Marcia stood up and the front of her robe parted slightly. Robin saw that she was naked underneath. Not even a pair of panties. Mom wouldn't approve.

"I don't arm-wrestle."

"Oh, I see. You just wrestle."

Robin felt her face redden. Marcia smiled, walked sexily around the table. She eyed Robin.

"You'd better start wearing a bra, little Sis. You're going to find some male's paw wrapped around one of those little titties some afternoon when you're bending over a busted engine."

Robin pressed her lips together hard. She couldn't think of one Goddamn thing to say back. Marcia opened the robe more, let her see a big tit. And despite her effort not to look, Robin found herself staring. Marcia's tit was big and round and high on her chest. The nipple was dark, the areola was dark too with little bumps around it. Down along the undercurve of the lovely breast was a tiny mole. Robin could only think of her own, small titties. They weren't much. She felt suddenly very inadequate standing there before her big sis.

"I gotta go."

"Oh, Robin?"

Robin turned.

"You have some grease under your thumbnail," Marcia cooed. "Just thought you might like to know. Or is that part of your appeal?"

"Fuck you," Robin said, her voice husky with anger. She went out the front door and down the walk. She could hear Marcia laughing in the house. She almost walked right past her mother, bent down behind her rose bushes.

"Oh Robin, you're up." Her mother brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled. "Where are you going, darling?"

"Somewhere… to Betty's house I guess."

"You will be home or lunch, won't you? I worry about you not eating on weekends."

"I'll get something at Betty's."

"Do take care, Robin. Do you have any money?"

"Yeah." She was already turning down the walk. She wanted to get to Steve's before he cut out somewhere. Her mother was calling something after her.

"Ask around for Steve, would you please, Robin? Your father isn't taking this whole thing very well at all. At least Steve might call us. You don't know where he is, do you?"

"No Mom, I don't," Robin called back. She started to jog. At the end of the block her T-shirt was rubbing her nipples. They had begun to grow the past year and Robin wasn't used to the new sensation. They were a bother, always rubbing on something. She stopped jogging and wondered if maybe Marcia was right about the bra. Marcia never wore one though. She thought it was unliberated.

Robin saw the bus four blocks away, hissing down on a curb. She leaned against a light pole and let her palms slide up over her T-shirted tits. The nipples expanded immediately, pressed hotly against her palms. The sensation seemed to be wired to other parts of her body. Her ears glowed and between her legs.

"Oh Jesus Christ…" she breathed, taking her hands away.

She got on the bus.

Steve's apartment was at the back of an old house on Trumble Street.

Robin saw the yellow jeep parked in the alley and knew she must be at the right place. She knocked lightly on the pane of the door. She stood on her tiptoes and tried to peek inside. It looked dark. She tapped again. Nothing. But the knob turned in her hand and she pushed it open and went in. Funny smell. Like leaves burning.

"Steve?"

"Huh?" There was a lump in the bed that moved a little. She saw his tousled blond hair.

"Hey, it's me. Robin!" She stepped across his clothes in the middle of the small room. "It smells funny in here. Like something's burning."

"How ya doing, Robin?" Steve's voice sounded blurred, heavy.

Robin looked down at his handsome face, the wideset, blue eyes. Funny but she'd never thought of Stevie being handsome before. Robin felt a sudden urge to kiss him, to beg him to come back home. Instead she pounced on his belly with her knees and grabbed at his wrists.

"You must think you're smart," she laughed, "just because you got a place all your own now."

"Hey come on…!" He twisted away but she had a knee on his belly still, pinning his shoulders. He grabbed her middle with both hands and tried to shove her over. Robin laughed and hung on, but Steve was waking up now. He was laughing tickling her hard.

"Remember when we used to wrestle until we always ended up breaking something?" she gasped, grabbing at his hand.

"Yeah. Dad would raise hell." Steve wiggled his fingers up under her arm and Robin screeched with agonizing joy. Stevie always could tickle the shit out of her, tickle her until she couldn't breathe, tickle her until she almost passed out.

Steve got a leg out from under the covers and caught one of her thighs in a scissor hold. Robin felt her shorts pull up between the lips of her cunt. It felt funny and her tits were being rubbed too hard again. Her breath came in panting little gasps. Then she realized that her brother had nothing on but a T-shirt.

Steve pushed her down by the wrists and pinned her easily. She snapped her teeth at him and grinned. They were both breathing hard. She arched her back and fought to bounce him off her, but couldn't. She felt happy, wrestling just like they'd done so many times growing up. But there was something different too. Something very, very strange about the room, about Steve… about the way his warm, naked thighs felt pressing between hers.

"What is that funny smell, Stevie?"

"You can't get up, can you?" he whispered, blue eyes daring her.

She started to struggle again, working her hips, trying to slide them to one side. She couldn't close her thighs because her brother had wedged his down between them. It felt so… unfamiliar. They'd wrestled before. But the rub of Steve's chest against her titties was making her breathe strangely.

Those damned tits, why were they getting in the way! And there was a tingly sensation in her cunt. Every time she tried to work her pelvis so she could slide out from under Steve's body, her shorts pulled tighter into her crack. And there was something else pushing there too. It was Steve. It was Steve's cock!

"Okay… uncle…!" She whimpered and bucked herself upward against him. "Steve, come on, let me up."

"Robin, I'm glad you came over." His lips moved wetly against her neck when he spoke. Robin had never felt anything in her life quite like that. She moved her head slightly, frowning at the sensation, wondering about it. Steve was moving his body in a strange kind of way. He was rubbing himself against her crotch. She could feel his cock. It was hard and seemed bigger than she'd remembered when she'd caught a glance of her brother in the tub or getting into swimming trunks.

"You're really glad I came over?" She knew she'd said it so he would talk again.

"Yeah… I sure am."

"Mmmmm," Robin moaned. She was dizzy, breathless. She had no idea what was happening except that it felt strangely good. She could smell the sleepy musk of Steve's body, his slightly funky breath that had a tinge of smoke on it. But Steve didn't smoke. Not that she knew anyway.

She tried to catch her breath. It came in short puffs. Steve was moving his hips quickly now. She experienced guilt, a feeling of treading on forbidden paths.

They weren't wrestling any more. Steve was doing something entirely different. And as his hands tightened on her wrists, pinned them higher above her head, Robin felt panic.

"Let me up… Steve, can you hear me?"

"Robin… Ohhh God…" He was kissing her neck now. She tried to bring her chin down but couldn't. The touch of his lips… they were like nothing she'd dreamed of even.

"Steeeevie…"

She tried to work her hips to the side again, tried to twist them out from under Steve's plunging body. But he had her good now. He was raking his hard cock up against the soft, damp meat of her cunt. Even through a pair of silk panties and her shorts, she could feel his prick.

He let go of her wrists and wrapped his arms around her back. She felt his fingers sliding down against the small of her back where the T-shirt was hiked up. His fingers were warm.

"Noooo. Oh Jesus no, no, no!"

He was trying to kiss her on the mouth. Robin moved her head to the side. He kissed her ear instead. He was making grunting noises. His body had gone rigid and he had spread his knees against the undersides of her thighs.

Robin whimpered with fear and tried to push him away. Why was she so damned weak all of a sudden? She had no fight left, nothing left except the odd, burning sensations that were spreading like ripples on a pond, spreading out from the core of her pussy. Yes, she thought of it with that word now… soft and wet and shivery.

Pussy.

Cock.

Her brother's cock.

"Uhhh… Robin…"

Something hot and wet and sticky spurted against the inside of her thigh. Robin knew what was happening. Something she'd read about, heard whispers about at school. It was the way males fucked. The female was the receptacle for the male sperm. The tiny, tadpole-like things wiggled their way up the female's vagina and into the warmth of the womb.

Robin screamed. It wasn't a loud scream nor hysterical. It was only a shrill whistle of air past her vocal cords, hardly a scream at all.

Steve was on his knees, his face red and glazed with shock. He grabbed the end of the sheet and began to mop wildly at the slimy mess that dribbled in whitish strings from her tan thigh.

Robin was panting hard, propped up on her elbows watching him. Their eyes met for an instant, but didn't hold. Steve rubbed furiously at the cum.

"I'll get something from the bathroom, a damp wash rag'll get it off…" He bounced off the bed.

Robin glimpsed his cock before his back was turned and the size of it made her breath catch. She'd never guessed that Steve had anything like that heavy-looking appendage. His cock was absolutely huge! At least six inches long… no more than that. And thick and purple around the tip. That tip, that flared, swollen end had almost made her dizzy with shock. It didn't look human at all, didn't resemble the tiny, shriveled organ of her brother when they'd played in the tub together years before.

When Steve came back in the room, he kept his eyes averted. He knelt beside her. Robin grabbed the rag from his hand and sat up.

"Let me do it."

Steve found a pair of underwear and started pulling them on. She didn't want to look, but she did anyway. The cock between her brother's legs was sagging now but still big. There was a droplet of milky fluid hanging from the pisshole at the tip. Blond curls framed the shaft and the loosely hanging balls. Then white cotton skivyes hid it from her eyes. She bit her bottom lip and mopped gingerly at the crotch of her shorts.

"I'm sorry." He just wouldn't look at her.

Robin wished she could think of something to say. She didn't know how she felt. Except that her emotions were a swirling, trembly mess inside her.

Steve got into a pair of faded Levi's and put his sneakers on without socks.

"Look, I'm taking the jeep out for a run. Out to Three Hills. You want to come?"

Robin caught a braid rubbed it against the underside of her chin.

"Mom and Dad are really missing you." It wasn't at all what she was thinking about, but it would have to do for conversation.

"I'm not going back." Steve went into the kitchen and put some water on to boil.

Robin looked at him. The muscles in his back were bigger than she remembered. His T-shirt cut in tight below his arms and clung against the curving lumps of his chest. She could seethe blond hair below his navel peeking out from under the T-shirt. It made her think of other blond hair further down. She looked at her thighs. The cum was drying, making a thin, white skin. She dug at it with a blunt fingernail. She was shaking again. She was coming apart inside and her damned old brother was making coffee in the kitchen and acting like nothing had ever happened.

"Steve."

He came quickly across to her and, when she stood up, he hugged her.

"It was my fault, Robin. Come on, I'm gonna fix some coffee and then we'll get something to take with us to eat and drive the jeep out to Three Hills. You can drive when we get out of the city."

"Yeah… Okay…" Robin wiped tears with the back of her hand. Steve kissed her hair, patted her shoulder and went back into the tiny kitchenette.

She stood there in the middle of the room, feeling his cum drying on her legs, thinking that she'd never had a boy hug her as tightly as Steve had on the bed that morning. The day was different now. It would always be different from now on. Things would never be the same. Never, never, never.

Marcia sat fingering her gold watch. The one Sam Philbert had given her the week before. She thought of it as a reminder of payments yet to be made. A girl didn't get anything free nowadays. And though Sam could afford it, afford as easily as he had afforded the white Lincoln and his fancy clothes and the big house he'd showed her pictures of… thought he could afford to give away a gold watch, Marcia knew what was coming. She'd known when she'd let him put the soft, glittery band around her thin wrist and fasten it.

She stood up and walked nervously to the window. Her silky dress clung around her waist, crackling with static electricity. She smelled her soapy fresh body and the tinge of fragrant musk she'd applied at her wrists, behind her ears.

Sam was late. Marcia sat down on the couch and lit her second cigarette of the hour.

"Sam not here yet?" her mother said, swishing happily into the room.

"He'll be here soon."

"Oh, I'm sure he will." Her mother sat down across from her. "He's such a nice young man. I wish that your sister would start acting her age, start dating a few boys. She worries me to death."

"Robin's not the type."

"Oh, don't I know that." Her mother patted her greying hair. "It's funny how Robin and Steve were always close and you two girls fought so. I'm only hoping that your sister can talk some sense into that boy's head, get him to come back home."

Marcia stood up, sucked awkwardly at the cigarette. "Don't wait up for me tonight, Mom. Sam said something about keeping me out late."

"Oh?"

"A party. Special kind of party with some friends of his."

"Well, I trust you, Marcia. I always have I guess. Even when you wanted to drop out of college, I told your father that I thought you were smart enough to know what you wanted."

Marcia heard the car pulling up in the drive. She grabbed her sweater. "Night, Mom."

Her mother came over and took her gently by the shoulders.

"Marcia… I… well I never talked to you must about what girls should know… about men. I just hope that you use good sense… you know what I mean."

"Everything's all right, Mom." She leaned forward to kiss the wrinkled, slightly damp forehead. "Everything's just fine."

They were just sliding onto the freeway before Sam turned to look at her. He smiled.

Marcia smiled back. His dark hair hung in heavy curls over his forehead. He was older than he looked. Or maybe his age didn't matter, his physical age anyway. She could see him as a boy, the kind of kid that had dirty pictures and showed off the dirty rubber he carried to the others. The boy who talked incessantly about pussy and cunt. Talked about it in a twisted, vulgar way.

For an instant Marcia wondered why she had let Sam put that damned gold watch on her wrist the weekend before. Four dates they'd had. Four too many. She was in over her head now. She was trembling. She clasped her fingers together.

"You smell like something against the law, baby." Sam's eyes were shining like snake eyes. "I thought I'd stop by my room at the Hilton and we'd have a little drink before going over to the party. You hungry for anything?"

"No." She'd said it too quickly, too tightly.

Sam took an exit ramp. The streetlights were on and Marcia could see the twinkling glitter of neons beginning to change the night.

A doorman met the car at the hotel entrance, bowed courteously when Sam pushed a five-dollar bill into his palm. Marcia was watching the Lincoln glide away to the parking ramp when Sam squeezed her elbow and pulled her against him.

An evening wind caught her long brown hair and blew it back from her face. Sam looked at her like his mouth was about to water. She thought of the room they were heading for, thought of how it would be as the elevator doors cinched closed behind them. When the indicator read floor ten, Sam let his fingers slip down over her hip, down to the firm swell of her ass. The silk dress warmed to his touch. She gasped as a finger pressed into the crevice of her buttocks.

"Sam… not now."

Marcia knew she was purer than Sam thought she was. She had been fucked by only one other man in her life. In the back seat of a car. A drive-in movie. She'd been nineteen. Her broken cherry had bled for an hour and the pain.

Sam's fingers squeezed her arm.

"Here's our floor, baby… something wrong?"

She stared at the hallway, the red carpet, the silent closed doors. Then she let him pull her from the elevator and down the hall. Her knees felt like rubber. She was faint and weak.

"Come on," Sam breathed against her ear, opening the door. "Come on inside and relax…"

"You'd better fill this for me," Marcia said, holding her empty glass up.

The drink had helped a lot. She wanted more help. She was sweaty under the arms. Her silk dress made her skin feel tingly and strange. Damned new dress. She wished she'd worn a bra. But she didn't own one. How damned silly. What was wrong with her anyway? She was a big girl now. She could control things.

Sam came across the room. He never made any noise when he walked. Like a snake. He sat beside her and she took the glass from him. He put his lips against the side of her neck while she sipped. She didn't react, held her senses back… tried not to feel the hard, hot tip of his tongue.

"Mmmmm, that tickles."

Sam curved a hand around the top of her thigh where the silk dress ended. Her skin crawled. He had his jacket off, shirt unbuttoned. Marcia could see the thick, dark chest curls, could smell his cologne. Not a bad smell. She couldn't look into his eyes.

"You have the body and face of a model," he said, whispering into her ear. She felt him trace the outline of her ear with his tongue. "But I told you that last week, didn't I?"

"Yes." She dared to let him see her eyes for a moment.

"You have nice eyes too."

Marcia got up and smoothed the dress on her hips. She downed the drink suddenly, almost choking on it. Sam stood behind her, his arms pulled her back against his body. She felt that stiffness in his pants. It was arranged so that it jutted up between the silk-covered halves of her ass. Funny how she felt that.

"You seem nervous. Maybe I'd better help you calm down a little."

His mouth was on the back of her neck. He was holding her long hair up so he could get to it good. Marcia closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly, tried to think of nothing at all. His tongue snaked wetly against her skin. She felt the instinctive excitement.

He was pulling her back hard against his hardness. She felt his prick pressing deeper into her asscrack. She moved slightly to free herself, but Sam only grunted and held her tighter. He was working on her ear now, biting the lobe.

"I think you're about ready to have a little fun, sweetheart…" His fingers smoothed her flat belly, searched down a thigh for the edge of the silk dress, found it and hooked under. The inside of her thigh burned wherever his fingers traced. She sighed aloud now. She didn't want him to do it, but she sighed.

He wasn't going to fuck her. That was all there was to it. She knew ways of keeping him from doing that. She knew…

"Sam."

"Come on." He put an arm around her and dragged her toward the bed. He was so much stronger than she thought.

She heard his pants sliding off as he pushed her back on the mattress. She smelled his musk. He was clean, but there was a heavy, musky heat about him. She closed her eyes and searched frantically down his belly for that thing she had to find and control. She didn't want to touch his cock. She had never touched a prick in her life. And when the hot tip of his cock brushed her hand, she pulled back.

"Big enough for you, baby?"

"Mmmmm."

Why was he so crude, so coarse? Why was she here in the hotel room with him? He was fumbling at the wristwatch now, slipping it from her as if he still owned it. He put it on the table by the bed and then kissed her wrist.

"You know I can't let you do anything tonight," she whispered, touching his head with her other hand.

"How come?"

"I had to go off the pill," she lied. She had never been on it. "It was giving me headaches."

"So?"

"So I'm really a very fertile girl. And the time of the month is just perfect for…" she shrugged, "you know."

Sam began to twist her brown hair in his fingers. She smiled, pretending to like it, but the twisting got tighter until her head was pulled back. Then it hurt. She looked wide-eyed and frightened into his eyes.

"Look, baby, I think it's about time you and I reached some understanding." He wound more hair around his fingers and brought her head back until her neck ached.

"Ohhh… that hurts… Sam."

"I don't like a cunt fooling around with me too much… like you been doing."

"Sam…" Her stomach bucked with fear. He was hurting her good now, really hurting her. His other hand reached up and took the top of the silk dress and yanked it down. The material came apart and Marcia felt one tit bounce free.

"I been wanting to see your tits for a month. I been acting real nice and proper, too, and you coming on like they're the crown jewels."

He tore the rest of the silk away. Marcia felt her nakedness, felt her nipples fill with blood.

And when Sam put his mouth around one dark areola, she bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. His fingers kept her head pulled back.

"Ohhhh… please don't, Sam."

"Sam's gonna do what the fuck he wants to tonight, baby." He tongued her nipple, sucked it deep between his teeth and nibbled. He brought her head upright again. "I could have any chick in this town but I wanted you. Ever since I first saw you come out of that store I wanted you. You think I'd give a damn if I hadn't shown you a good time, bought you that damn watch?"

"Maybe you should take the watch back, Sam." She wished she hadn't said it, but it was too late.

His eyes hardened.

"The watch is yours. And you belong to Sam Philbert now." He sneered. "The boys are going to see you tonight and know that your sweet little ass belongs to me."

Marcia dropped her eyes. She wanted to cry.

"You stick with me and you'll have a lot of nice things. You can have any damned thing you want, you stick with me. I'm going to Mexico City next month and you can come along. Eddy and the boys are going to like you. You got some real class, honey."

He pressed his lips against hers. But it wasn't the kiss that made her groan with surprise. It was Sam's fingers that had pushed up the inside of her thigh and twisted aside the silk crotchpiece of her panties. She felt her clit forced down into the seeping folds of her pussy. She felt him rubbing it, rubbing it too hard.

She squirmed her hips, tried to move her cunt away from the touch. A thumb slipped into her cunt and wiggled as deep as it would go. She gasped for air against Sam's kiss and pushed against his shoulders.

Sam slapped them away, rolled her over onto her stomach. He held her wrists together at the small of her back.

Marcia heard silk tearing. Her dress. Her beautiful dress. The silk wrapped around her wrists. Sam was quick. So quick to go after what he wanted. The silk tightened until she felt the blood slow to her fingers. He knotted it expertly.

The bed punched down next to her face. He was kneeling there, pulling her up by the shoulders. She felt his cock brush her forehead.

"Oh God… what… Sam… what?"

She wished she hadn't had that second drink. She was helpless. Sam made her dry lips press against the purple, warm tip of his cock. It wasn't so big. Average? How could she know anything like that. His cock wasn't so big as to scare her, but it did. His prick was white, very white. With veins. But the tip wasn't white. Purple and blue and spongy.

She shuddered when he pushed her closed lips down again. She wanted to tell him to stop, but that would mean opening her mouth. Fingers… fingers probing at her jaw, pushing in until it hurt.

"Ahhhh!" she cried and Sam forced her mouth open.

Marcia felt faint and dizzy from the unexpected sensation. It was starting to dawn on her… this hotel room, her hands bound with silk behind her back. This man kneeling before her with the tip of his cock inside her mouth. Spit leaked from the corners of her mouth.

She tugged at the silken bonds. He forced her head down, holding her under the chin, finger against her throat as if he might choke her for the fun of it. The cock was being drenched with her spit, growing slick. His cock was so hot.

She began to sob.

"That's just fine, honey. I can get off real nice on crying women. I like to hear them cry."

The domed, slick glans of his cock was deep in her mouth now. It slid against the soft slickness of her tongue. She knew that she was only an inch away from gagging.

Sam twisted her hair, gave her that inch. Then he was yanking her back as her convulsions made her throat cinch around the flared ridge of his swollen cock. Down again, forcing her head forward and twisting it. Then quickly back.

Her stomach ached from the sudden spasm. Tears of fear and hurt lined her cheeks. She felt one warm droplet hang from her chin.

"Move your tongue, baby! Like you're licking a popsicle!"

The thick hand tightened in her hair. Marcia let her tongue trace the bulged shape along the underside of the cock. His prick was swollen tight with blood. It was hot too and very, very smooth.

She didn't like it, didn't like the cock she was being forced to suck… and yet there was some other side, another part of her that responded to that swollen prick between her lips. Just so he wouldn't ram his cock into her throat again. She licked, hoping to entertain him enough… enough for that anyway.

"You never sucked a man's cock before… I can tell." He smoothed the side of her face. "I didn't mean to be so rough, Marcia. I mean, I dig you plenty. I dig you more than any other chick I've had."

He pulled her face away from his hot cock. It slipped over her bottom lip. She looked dazedly at the swaying cock half a foot from her mouth. She looked wearily up at Sam. Her back and neck ached from being in such an agonizing position.

She wished he would let her up onto her knees. He let her hair go and her head flopped down into the softness of a pillow. She didn't try to get loose. She felt suspended, floating. Her cunt was too wet, too warm. It felt uncomfortable, as if it were leaking through her panties.

Footsteps.

The bed sagged behind her as Sam crawled onto it. He bent to kiss the backs of her knees. She didn't move a muscle. Marcia closed her eyes tight and thought of her bed at home.

Then the room, the man with the snake eyes and hard hands came back in a rush. She started to sob quietly, muffling the sounds in the pillow as best she could. Sam had pierced her silk panties with the tip of something sharp. She felt the brush of steel for a moment, the side of a blade. The silk opened to the razor sharpness. She felt the tension of the silk as it parted back to expose her cunt. He was opening the crotchpiece of her underwear with a knife.

The tiny snap of a switch, the buzz of something made Marcia's slender body go rigid. She tried to turn, but Sam pushed her shoulder and forced her face down again.

"I got a nice surprise for you, honey. This always works as an ice breaker." Another snapped switch, more buzz. "Two work even better than one."

Marcia knew that the tickles at the cheeks of her ass were vibrators. Those bullet-shaped things she saw for sale as cosmetic aids in department stores. Sam had two of them. He was rubbing the tickling tips over the round swells of her ass. He was working them up and down, pushing a dildo into her asshole. Instinctively she pinched her cheeks together.

Sam laughed. He was moving the other dildo down between her thighs, very close to her cunt. Again Marcia tried to roll off of her stomach, but Sam had forced her legs apart and was holding them down with his own as he bent down to her ass with the quivering vibrator… slipping it now against the outer lips of her cunt.

She felt the slickened membranes of her pussy part slightly around the pressure of the bullet. The plastic grew slick instantly from the hot cunt-juice. If only she could stop the cunt-juice from seeping out.

"Like that, Marcia?"

She tugged at the silk around her wrists. It didn't loosen. The bullet was being pushed up and down the outer edges of her pussy. She was panting hard, fighting off the excitement.

"Ohhh… please let me go home!" She let herself cry completely, let the sobs buck her stomach hard. "Ohhh nooo… don't do that!"

The dildo was slipping deeper. Sam was forcing the vibrator down over her clit. A sudden sensation hit her like nothing she'd ever felt in her life. Even when she'd sprayed water on her cunt while bathing, she'd never felt anything quite so furious.

Tendrils of thrilling pleasure connected her nipples to her cunt. She felt them stiffen out against the coarse bedspread. And when she tried to turn again, the friction over her nipples made her gasp. The tickling tip of the dildo touched her clit again and she arched her back until her belly and tits were barely touching the bed at all.

She shivered as Sam drove the vibrator in circles around the base of her swelling clitoris.

"God… noooo. Please… Ohhhh please, please." Sam had worked the smooth dildo down to the mouth of her cunt and was tracing the taut muscles that controlled the opening. Marcia knew that she wasn't like other females when it came to sex. A doctor might call her neurotic. She was afraid of that place in her body, that soft, slick hole. A man had put his cock halfway into her cunt three years ago.

So now with this plastic prick working in her cunt, Marcia felt the old panic, the old fears flooding her again. Of course she wasn't normal. How could any normal girl let herself come to a hotel room with… with someone like Sam Philbert.

"Christ in heaven… Ohhhh God help me…!"

The vibrator was slipping through her cuntlips. She tightened them more and tried to climb higher on the bed. But Sam was laughing again, digging his fingers into her thigh.

"It hurts!"

She could feel the thing entering her cunt. She could feel the drenched slick membranes suck close to the smooth shape, could feel her pussy responding to the new hardness inside. The dildo was going so deep! It was scary and strange and terribly insistent that buzzing, tingling sensation. And then she felt the rough base of the vibrator, felt it slipping inside past her cuntlips. No! That was impossible!

"NO! It's clear inside. Uhhhh!"

"Six inches of plastic cock, baby."

Sam laughed, pulling his finger gingerly out of her cunt as the opening closed down.

"You've got fantastic muscles in your cunt, you know it? Like some virgin or something. I don't think you've been fucked much, at least not by anyone with much meat."

He laughed again, wiped her asscheeks with his buttery fingers. Marcia could only make choking sounds and work her pelvis in wild circles as the hidden vibrator inside her hot cunt sent frenzied burst of pleasure through her body. It was trapped up there inside her pussy. She couldn't get it out… she knew she couldn't.

"I'll die with that thing inside me… it's wrong… you've got to take it out!"

But Sam was moving around in front of her again. He rolled her onto her side. She closed her mind against the fantastic thrills that spread from her pussy, spread up her belly and down the insides of her thighs. Her mouth fell open and she slobbered onto the sheet.

"It… it's driving me crazy… take it… out… Uhhh!"

"It feels good, doesn't it?"

"No! Take it out… Ohhhh!" She squirmed her ass. But when she moved, the muscles inside her cunt folded and sucked around the invading dildo. Her pussy tightened and relaxed, tight and loose like it was milking at the plastic cock.

"Ohhhh… Ahhhh… I don't know what's happening. I feel so weak… so terribly weak!"

"Tell me how it feels, baby. Tell Sam how it feels."

"No… it feels wrong. It feels good… NO!"

"You said it!" He laughed. "I heard you, you dumb bitch."

Her heat increased, the lovely hot tickle grew hotter yet. She tried to squeeze the cock-like thing from her insides. Bitch. Why had that word made everything more intense, more pleasurable.

She shook her head, felt Sam opening her mouth with his fingers. She could smell her own cunt-juice on his fingers.

The shreds of her ruined panties dangled around her swollen cuntlips as she tried to work that awful thing free from her pussy. But her movements only added increased fire to the throbbing pressure that seized her now. She was no longer a person with free will. She was slave to that tickle inside her. Her mouth was open, drool spilling out.

Then Sam was on his side, keeping her on her side, pushing her down as he slid upwards so that his cock.

"Ohhhh… please… mmmm!"

His swollen cock glided over the surface of her spasming tongue. There was a sky rocket up inside her cunt… she was on the tip of it riding through space. And Sam's thick prick was forcing the muscles of her throat apart.

She gagged and her throat closed down spasmodically around the spongy crown. Sam gave a growl of pleasure.

"Suck my cock good, you bitch!"

"Mmmmm… ahhhh!"

Marcia sucked wildly. She knew it was not really her there with a cock in her mouth and something else up inside wet pussy. It was another part of her, a part she'd never met. She didn't want to run her tongue up the veined, swollen cock that burst her cheeks. But she did.

She lapped hungrily at the hard, hot cock, fluttered her tongue hard against the taut head of his prick. She sucked because when she stopped, Sam forced her head forward, forced his prick deep, deep into her throat like he was doing now. She bucked and jerked as the gagging reflex took over in her mind. Sam began to slide his hips forward and back. She lay on her side, so weak… so weak, and yet burning as the itching goodness burst in her cunt.

She pretended not to be so afraid and she wasn't. She didn't have to pretend to like what was happening to her cunt. The ravishing pleasure was beyond her control. Her pussy was jerking tight around the slick plastic of the vibrator and she tossed wildly on the bed, flopping her firm ass around.

Sam's prick had swollen larger than before. It was stretching her lips, sliding against the roof of her mouth when he stabbed his hips forward. And when it jammed her throat full, the gagging spasms were not quite so intense now. She didn't like that part of it, but the panic was gone.

There was a cock in her mouth, a large, male cock. It was full of blood and hot and spongy. When she danced her tongue along the crown, the sensation excited her as much as it seemed to excite Sam. There was nothing in her experience anything close to it. That prick felt so different, so out of place there between her lips… and yet strangely comfortable too. But the fire between her legs was making it hard to concentrate on doing what Sam liked.

Her mouth went slack… her tongue lobed loosely against the pisshole at the tip of the glistening, domed glans. Sam grunted with pent-up lust, ramming his hips forward.

"Ohhhh," she gasped, straining to free her hands, trying to twist her mouth free.

She was spinning in space, her sweat-slick thighs clamping together, then bounding apart as the vibrator surged against her clit, trembled against the convulsed, aching muscles that held it deep against the mouth of her womb.

"Bite it… Goddamn you… bite it!"

Sam grasped her slender neck in a strangle hold. Marcia found the spongy tip and sank her teeth into it. A thin spurt of hot fluid filled her mouth. It was creamy slick with a slightly salty taste. She clamped down on the bursting, throbbing cock and a second flood of semen boiled out. It was thicker and even hotter than the first and it was too much to get down her throat.

Marcia whimpered and the sound of hot cum crackling in her nostrils made her feel faint. The vibrator was tearing her pussy apart… holding her on the razor's edge of release. She bucked and snapped her hips, trying to get rid of the tantalizing, ravenous rape of her cunt. Thick curds bubbled at the corners of her mouth as Sam pumped his cum-slickened cock deep into her throat and dragged it back again. In and out, deeper yet until she felt the spraying semen coating her tonsils and throat.

She gagged, this time from the gloppy strings of cum that shut off her breathing. Sam fondled her large tits, trying to get his fingers around both quivering swells. Her nipples were gouged by his rough fingers and she whined and bucked frantically, grinding her pelvis hard against his foot. Yes, he'd slipped his ankle up against her pussy, shoving the dildo even deeper into her body. And that was all it had taken.

The touch of her clit, the feel of her hot cunt-juice as it spilled out of her swollen, hot pussy. She was coming at last and the ache turned to glorious waves of pleasure. She cried out, gargling the cum in her throat, muffled by the fucking cock in her mouth.

"Eat me good, you bitch… eat me damned good… Ahhhh!"

She felt Sam jerk. He rammed his cock past the entrance of her throat, back further until his balls bumped warmly against her chin. She felt her gags caressing the hot, smooth glans, felt the thick, potent cream being milked into her belly.

She swallowed fast. That made it better. The wave of sickness disappeared. Her asscheeks were still quivering with the passing rush of ecstasy. Why had it lasted for such a short time? Oh why couldn't that go on forever?

Her eyes were closed when Sam pulled his cock slowly from her mouth. She was in a trance and felt the wilting hot meat sliding out from between her lips. She closed them around it, squeezing one last droplet of his jizz onto her tongue. Why had she done that? She'd always thought that eating a man's cum would be horrible.

She was losing her mind. Maybe she'd dreamed the whole thing.

Sam was untying her hands. Then his fingers parted the aching lips of her pussy and she felt the plastic vibrator being eased out. He snapped it off and tossed it on the bed beside her. Marcia kept her eyes closed, breathed in huge lungfuls of air. She was exhausted.

When Sam went into the bathroom, she sat up and stared around her. Then she heard the sound of the shower and Sam was standing in the doorway smiling at her.

"Come on. You can get freshened up before I take you over to the party."

Marcia smiled weakly, limped toward the bathroom. Sam hooked her close to him as she tried to pass by. His fingers went to her pussy and tickled her clit.

"You're my pussy now, baby. Ain't that right?"

Marcia felt too weak to protest. She looked down at her tits, down over her flat, young belly. She nodded slowly.

Sam forced her head back and covered her mouth with his. She felt him probe her cummy mouth with his tongue and then he gave her ass a sharp smack and went across the room to where a bottle of whiskey sat in amber illumination under a lamp.

His cock wasn't so big now. She was still staring at his prick when he turned with the glass in his hand.

"Next time you can have my cock in your cunt, Marcia. You oughta be fixed up with something by then, right?"

Again she nodded.

He smiled. She smiled. She went into the bathroom and tied her hair up in a towel and got quickly under the hot spray of the shower.

When she came out again, Sam was dressed. And there was a box from the most exclusive dress shop in town lying in the middle of the bed. Marcia couldn't hide the excitement in her face when she opened it. Another silk dress, but prettier, more expensive than the one Sam had ruined. There was a pair of panties too. Gold silk with a tasteful edging of lace. She smiled her thanks at Sam.

He jostled the ice in his glass and watched her put her feet into the panties and slide them up her long legs. Then the dress. He came over to tie it for her.

"How do you feel?"

"Kind of weak. Like I'm dreaming."

"Is it a good dream?"

"I didn't know about dreams like this before tonight," she said.

"I guess that's an honest enough answer. Let's go to the party. You look like a million dollars."

Marcia tasted cum under her tongue. She swallowed and swished her mouth around but the taste lingered, even after she was sitting in the leather softness of the Lincoln rushing across town to meet Sam's friends.

Robin wanted to tell her folks that she'd seen Steve, that he was okay, that he had enough to eat. But she didn't. Steve didn't want anyone to know where he was. But the real reason she kept everything to herself was her father. He would just try and pin her down, give her the third degree.

Ralph wanted Steve to go to college. It was a typical thing for a father to want. Robin couldn't blame her dad. But she couldn't blame Steve either for wanting to make his own decisions about something in his life.

So when her folks asked if she'd heard anything about Steve she told them that yes, she'd heard through the grapevine that they'd seen Steve around and that he was okay. That took it off her shoulders.

On Friday morning she awoke after a crazy, disturbing dream about Steve. She lay there under the sheets, thinking about the dream. Stevie and she had been swimming. And the water had made their swimming suits just kind of dissolve. She remembered being frantic, trying to hold together the strands of material. Then Steve and she were standing looking at each other. He had a big hard-on.

When Robin woke up, her panties were damp through the crotch and she felt odd and breathless. It was ten o'clock.

She swung her legs out of bed and padded into the kitchen. There was a note from her mom to eat breakfast and stay around the house. Her father had gone to work. Robin washed her face, brushed her teeth and looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Short, turned-up nose. Freckles. Red hair hanging in twisted strings from having been braided the day before. Well, maybe her breasts were growing a little. She cupped her hands under them, lifted the soft, quivery flesh. Sore as usual. And nothing like the fantastic-looking tits that perched on her older sister's chest.

Robin thumbed one of her nipples. It changed slightly in texture and swelled outward. She thumbed it again, pinched it finally. Her face flushed. There was an unfamiliar rush of tingles that seemed to course up the insides of her thighs and then grow hot in her cunt. Her pussy was hidden by sparse curls. Red curls. Really just kinky fuzz. But her nipples were nothing like Marcia's nipples. Marcia's nipples were dark and long and thick. It was weird and strangely exciting to see. Robin looked at her small, pink nipples. Her nipple pushed out some from the dainty softness of the areola but not much.

Funny how the touch had done something to her cunt. She rubbed her titty again, rubbing it deeply. A sudden surge of juice seemed to push from her tight cunt. She felt her panties become damp at the crotch. Like they had when she'd awakened in the middle of that dream.

She knew girls at school that told her stories about boys feeling them up. Boys liked to feel a girl's tits so the stories went. She'd even heard one tale of a guy actually kissing a girl's tits.

Robin closed her eyes and leaned against the basin. The cold surface shocked her out of her reverie and she hurried back down the hall to her room. She was still thinking about Steve and what had happened at his apartment.

The house was empty except for Marcia asleep upstairs. Robin went back down the hall to the living room. She got the dictionary down from a high shelf and sat cross-legged on the sofa.

Incest. Robin swallowed. She traced the definition with a fingertip. Sexual intercourse between persons so closely related that they are forbidden by law to marry.

Robin slapped the book shut. She tried to lick her lips. She looked at her tan thigh but could see no trace of the semen that had dried there yesterday. Her brother. Stevie. All her life she'd been so close to him, she loved him. And now was it all wrong because of those words she'd just read.

When she stood to put the dictionary back, Robin found that her legs were very weak. And now the crotchpiece of her nylon panties was wetter than ever. When she sat down again to look, there was a slick glistening patch of moisture that had soaked through her panties. She touched a finger to the place and rubbed the warm buttery stuff. It smelled musky… sexy.

She wrinkled her nose and started down the hall to her room. The phone in the kitchen went off like a firm alarm, startling her so badly that she bumped against the wall and had to lean there getting her breath before hurrying to answer.

"Oh, Stevie… I didn't think you'd be calling here… no, just me and Marcia. Marcia's upstairs asleep, she was out late last night. No, I don't have but three dollars but you can have that. Okay, bye."

Robin put the phone down. She hurried to her room and dove into a pair of cut-off jeans, sandals and pulled a bikini top over her shoulders. Silly little piece of cloth… it didn't hide much, but then she didn't have much to hide.

She was working on a sandwich when she saw Steve come up the alley and wave from behind the fence. He jogged up the walk and into the kitchen. They smiled at each other, his hand brushed hers briefly.

"There's milk in the refrigerator and some lunch meat you can take back with you. I got a box full of canned stuff too." She grinned at her brother. He looked nervous.

"When's everybody coming home?"

"Not for a long time yet. And Marcia wouldn't say anything, even if she knew."

He seemed to relax a little. His T-shirt was dirty and she saw that his jeans were too. "I wish I could wash those for you while you're here. We could put them in the dryer and it wouldn't take very long."

It had seemed like an innocent enough thing to suggest, but when Steve looked at her there was a certain expression in his eyes that made her flush. He got up and paced the kitchen. Nervous again.

"Yeah. Maybe I could."

Robin put a sandwich down before him and watched him wolf it down.

"Good sandwich."

"Don't you get enough to eat over there?"

"I kinda ran out of cash. Bill Whittle owes me some though and he should pay up before the end of the week."

Robin dug the three crumpled bills from the pocket of her jeans and shoved them across the table. "There. I'll see if I can get some more by tomorrow."

"How you going to do that? Babysitting?"

"Nope. I have an idea." Robin took the dishes and put them in the sink. Steve was standing again, looking out the window like he expected his father to arrive at any moment.

"Oh come on," Robin scolded. "You know Dad's working and when Mom goes to one of those garden club meetings, she stays all day."

Steve smiled, let his shoulders relax.

"Yeah, I know you're fight. It's just weird being around here again."

"Why don't you go down to the basement and put your clothes in the washing machine."

"Yeah, okay. I guess that's safe enough."

Steve padded downstairs while Robin went down the hall to her room and plopped into a chair. She was scared. A conspiracy always was kind of scary. But even if somebody did come home, Steve would be safe in the basement. No one ever went down there except her mother and then only on washday. She heard Steve come back up the steps and poke his head out of the door.

"Hey, I can't find the soap." He grinned sheepishly at her as she pushed by him and descended the steep stairwell. He'd wound a towel around his middle. She was trying not to think of things like that.

"You would have put in too much anyway," she said, getting the soap powder out from behind a pile of dirty clothes and sprinkling two handfuls into the machine. Robin could feel him watching her as she pushed the cycle button to on. When she turned, Steve was sitting on the old couch that had been stored in the basement for years. The towel was arranged across his thighs. He was smiling cheerfully at her.

"I guess you can put them in the dryer by yourself," she kidded, heading for the steps.

"Robin… wait."

She stopped, turned.

He dipped his head, shrugged. "I don't want to just hang out down here with nobody to talk to…"

The lonesome sound of his voice made her forget about that morning in his apartment. After all, he was her brother. And she loved him. He was lonesome. Affecting a carefree bounce, she went and sat down on the couch.

Steve smiled at her. "Guess I miss you the most. Working on the jeep, just fooling around like we used to do."

"I miss you too, Stevie." She bit her lip. "Maybe it would be okay again if you moved home."

"Naw… naw, it wouldn't." He looked miserable. Lost. Robin wanted to say something sensible but she didn't feel very sensible at all. "Maybe I should join the Army or something. At least it would get me the hell away from home."

"Oh Steve, don't do anything like that!" She hadn't meant to touch him. But touching had always been so natural between them. Her hand was on his wrist. He closed his eyes. Robin moved close, put an arm around his shoulders.

Their eyes met and Robin could see the anguish in her brother's eyes. She tightened her hand on his shoulder, smiled bravely. Hell what else could she do? She was just his sister. His eighteen-year-old sister. Steve was twenty-one. He was more experienced about life than she.

Steve put his arm around her shoulders too. Robin knew she was breathing funny, knew that something odd was happening to her body. But Steve's face came slowly forward, slipped against hers. She felt his other arm slipping behind her, gently smoothing her bare back. She trembled, sucked in a gasp of air when Steve's mouth brushed her neck.

Robin had no idea where the storm in her loins had come from. It was a rushing, spreading glow. Steve was kissing her. Not that they hadn't kissed before. But these kisses were different. She wanted to die or pass out. She wanted to be a hundred miles away and yet she wanted to stay right there in the warmth of her brother's embrace, wanted to feel his hands making circles on her back… so warm, so smooth.

His lips found her cheek, her chin. She whimpered. Their lips brushed, then he was kissing her, pushing her back on the old sofa. Robin moaned. She wanted to push him away, but her hands were locked tightly around his back.

Oh God, it felt so wonderful! It felt like nothing she'd ever felt in her whole life.

"Steve… oh noooo!" She squirmed, but weakly.

"I love you, Robin. I love you better than anybody." His hand shook as he fumbled at her skimpy bikini top.

Robin twisted her body, fought against him now but it was a silly gesture. Steve was too strong. His fingers slipped easily under the halter and she felt her tit surrounded by his palm.

Her nipple filled almost instantly with blood. She could actually feel it happening! She shuddered. Steve rubbed his palm over the small pink button of her nipple. It grew against the friction, sending sparkles of pleasure through her belly.

The bikini top was stretched up now, exposing her other tit. Steve kissed her tits eagerly, awkwardly, hurrying. Robin's mind convulsed with fear as his lips closed over the tender swell of her tit, as his tongue raked the pink nipple.