TITLE    : Cock Crazy
STORYID  : cock-crazy
SUMMARY  : What’s a cock crazy girl to do?
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2007-04-25
CATEGORY : taboo-sex-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |brother|sister|incest anal|


"How will you ever manage to last two whole weeks?" Karen Adams asked.



"She won't," Myra Meeker asserted. "Not unless she's into bestiality."



"Ha ha," Amanda Jones said. "I should have known better than to confide in you guys."



"Mandy, two weeks in a mountain cabin, surrounded by forest, with a lake nearby--that hardly sounds like 'hell on earth,'" Karen said.



That was how Amanda had characterized her parents' choice of Big Woods Mountain Resort as this year's family vacation destination.



"There's swimming, sunbathing, reading, boating, hiking, even fishing, if you like hooking helpless fish for 'sport,' Myra agreed with Karen. "There are worse places to spend a couple of weeks of leisure."



Amanda sighed, shaking her head. Some girls just didn't understand, she thought. Maybe they couldn't understand. Maybe a girl had to be cock crazy to comprehend the obsessive-compulsive nature of her condition.



Even now, the subject broached, Amanda couldn't help but to visualize cocks, flaccid, short, long, thin, thick, erect, circumcised, uncircumcised, and otherwise, each of which was wonderful, magnificent, beautiful, in its own way.



She'd seen a lot of dicks in her time, and she'd handled most of them. Like most people, though, Amanda remembered best what she'd seen--and handled--last, which was Charles Dean's prick. Long, even when flaccid, she liked it limp and soft, like a log of Play-Doh. She'd even rolled it between her flattened palms, the way a child rolls a column of the limp, soft clay-like substance. It was fun to watch the flaccid organ flop and turn in her hands, and its smooth, soft texture felt good as she rolled it back and forth. She liked to watch the organ stiffen and swell, too, as she pumped its loose flesh back and forth, up and down, upon the lengthening shaft. Charles' balls would rise inside his scrotum as the baggy, wrinkled pouch of flesh lifted, becoming high and tight. It was fun--and exciting--to watch his cock bloom, its pale flesh deepening to pink, and to observe the glans as it ripened to a deep purple as it, like the rest of the organ, became engorged with blood, swelling to several times its normal size. If she continued to rub and squeeze, to pump and stroke, to knead and jiggle the genitals, they responded even more ardently, stiffening more, bulging more, throbbing more. It felt good to know that she controlled them, that she could manipulate a guy's passions so easily, that she could transform cock, balls, and mind with but a few, practiced actions; it made her feel powerful and in command.



Depending upon her mood, she might continue to masturbate a boy until he reached the point of no return, thighs scissoring, buttocks clamping and unclamping, belly heaving, cock convulsing, until the white lava of his semen erupted from his loins, a fountain of thick, warm, viscid passion given tangible form as creamy, fecundating fluid that she could wear upon her hand or her chest as a bracelet or a necklace of liquid pearls, and her trembling partner sat or lay gasping beside her.



For her, a beautiful cock and a matching set of lovely balls, not mere diamonds, were a girl's best friend.



Amanda supposed she was, as her friends insisted, "cock crazy."



What surprised--what astonished--her is that all girls weren't.



And, now, tomorrow, she was going away, with her mother, father, and geeky younger brother to a cabin atop a mountain, surrounded by a deep forest, with no cocks and balls available to enjoy. How would she ever survive for the two weeks she'd be away from Charles and the many other guys who allowed her such free and continuous access to their splendid organs?



It wasn't fair!



She shrugged. She'd have to rely on the dildos she would pack along with her clothing and the rest of her gear. Although she liked the artificial cocks, they were a poor substitute for the real thing.



Karen nudged Amanda. "Why so quiet?"



"She's thinking," Myra said.



"What are you thinking so hard about, Mandy?"



Myra answered for Amanda: "Cocks," she said. "What else?"



"Ha ha," Amanda replied, rolling her eyes.



The other girls giggled.



"Mandy, you really are cock crazy."



The cabin was actually pretty decent, Amanda thought. Although rustic-looking from the outside, in a sophisticated manner that indicated the use of high-tech tools and a factory-specific design, it was lavishly and comfortably furnished and equipped inside. There was a large stone fireplace, and the cabin even boasted a front porch unlike any frontiersman's family was likely ever to have seen. The setting was beautiful, too, from the majestic purple mountains and evergreen forest to the clear, placid lake that reflected the blue sky and fleecy white clouds tinged with gold. A wooden pier led from the shore into the lake, making the water accessible to boaters as well as to swimmers and fishers. She could have liked the place well enough, had there been some boys (or, more specifically, their cocks and balls) to keep her company. As it was, other than a pot-bellied, balding neighbor to whom Amanda referred privately as "Mr. Repulso," she was alone with her parents, Fred and Francine, and her stupid kid brother, Porter. Her family members were okay, in their way, but her mother was a woman and, of course, even if she'd been perverted enough to have a sexual interest in her father or her brother (gag!), they were off limits to her, as their daughter and sister, respectively.



"Why are you hanging around the cabin?" Fred asked his daughter.



"Where else am I going to go?" she asked.



"How about the lake? You could go boating or swimming. That's where your brother went."



"No thanks." The last place Amanda wanted to be was around Porter.



"How about a hike, then?"



"No thanks."



"Well," Francine chimed in, "if you're going to hang around here all day, I could use a hand."



"I thought we were on vacation," Amanda complained.



"Even on vacation, chores need to be done."



"I think maybe I will take a hike, like Daddy suggests," she replied.



"Now you're talking," her father said.



"Yeah, maybe I'll encounter some poison ivy," Amanda returned, "or a rattlesnake."



As she followed a winding trail that led up the mountainside, through the dense forest, ignoring the signs that identified various plants, trees, and wildflowers, Amanda was hoping against hope that she'd encounter a boy her own age. She'd been in this godforsaken wilderness for less than a single day, and, already, she missed seeing, fondling, kissing, and sucking a stiff, thick penis. She missed wrapping her fingers around its firm, sleek shaft and pumping hard and fast. She missed seeing the organ stiffen, swell, and change color, blossoming in her hand (or mouth or cunt or ass). There was nothing on earth even remotely as beautiful, in her mind, as a prick, whether it was flaccid or erect, white, black, brown, or yellow. Her only preferences were that they be circumcised and not more than a few years older than she was. Unfortunately, there were no penises in Big Woods Mountain Resort that fit these restrictions except her kid brother's, and, even if, at a year younger than she was, having just turned eighteen, he was, therefore, an "adult" by legal definition and a handsome enough guy, for a brother, she wasn't into incest. A girl had to draw the line somewhere, after all, even when it came to something as wonderful and lovely as a guy's genitals.



Bored with the nature trail before she'd hiked more than a quarter of a mile, she retraced her steps and started for the cabin (she did not, would not, think of the place as "home"). She'd rather help her mother do chores, she'd decided, than walk a stupid trail up the side of a mountain where, as far as she knew, there might be cougars and bears.



She was about to step out of the forest, into the clearing in which their cabin and their neighbor's cabin were situated, when she heard a man's voice. She stopped, not wanting to be seen or to give away her presence, for she'd recognized the speaker as Mr. Repulso, the fat, bald fucker who'd rented the cabin next door to theirs. Both cross-eyed and bug-eyed, he was truly repulsive, reminding her of a cross between Mr. Toad and Jar Jar Binks, but with a gross, grizzled beard instead of the latter's long ears.



"Yes, sir," Mr. Repulso was saying to her dad, "I hated to do it, but there was nothing else I could do."



"Well, you know what they say," her father replied, a note of consolation in his voice, "any port in a storm."



"Yes, sir, that's the truth of it," Mr. Repulso said. "Desperate situations call for desperate measures."



My God, Amanda thought, couldn't adults talk without their every sentence being a recycled cliché?



"Why don't you and the missus come over to our cabin tomorrow for dinner," Mr. Repulso invited Fred. "We can have a barbecue. Bring the kids."



"Maybe we'll do that," Amanda's father said, in what Amanda hoped was meant to be a non-committal response. She's rather die than go anywhere near Mr. Repulso, and she certainly didn't plan to eat anything he might have touched.



Mr. Repulso brought up a new topic, and it didn't seem that they'd finish jawboning any time too soon, Amanda decided, so she turned, careful not to step on a dry leaf or a stray twig and give her presence away, and crept back up the nature trail. She'd walked a little farther than she had last time before she came to a wooden sign, shaped like an arrow, that, pointing west, read, "Lake, 1 mile." Maybe she'd sneak in a quick swim. She'd left her bikini in her bedroom in the cabin, but they were here during the off season, and there was no one around. She could slip in naked. The water would feel good on her bare flesh.



The trail was well maintained, and, although it was steep, she was able to climb it fairly easily. Within fifteen minutes, she came to another sign that indicated that the lake was directly ahead and, sure enough, as she crested the top of the rise up which the trail led, she spotted the serene body of water stretching languidly below the sky, a distant range of mountains beyond, as if they were part of a matte painting designed to showcase the lake and the sylvan countryside in which it was located.



She also saw another body: her brother, Porter, was standing upon the end of the pier, completely naked, his hair wet and water running in bright streams down his muscular back, his firm, compact buttocks, and his sinewy thighs. Obviously, he'd come here with the same idea as she'd had, to skinny dip, thinking no one would be around to see him, least of all his sister, who'd vowed to hole up in the cabin every day, all day, until it was time to return to "civilization."



This was the first time she'd ever seen her brother nude, except, perhaps--she couldn't remember for certain--when they'd been toddlers. Brother or not, Porter was quite the stud, she thought. He was handsome as hell, and he had an all-over tan that showed he sunbathed in the nude--somewhere other than their yard, obviously. Had she not seen the evidence with her own eyes, Amanda would never have believed her brother would be so daring. The lack of tan lines didn't lie, though, and they proved that he was bold enough to lie around naked somewhere--probably at the unofficial "clothing optional" portion of Blake's Beach, a stretch of the Pacific only ten miles or so from their San Diego neighborhood. Rumor had it that the guys who sunbathed there were more interested in other men than they were in women--or, for that matter, catching rays. She sure hoped her brother wasn't gay. With a build like his, his being homosexual would be a waste of glorious manhood.



Unfortunately, standing, as he was, with his back toward her, he didn't offer Amanda a view of his cock and balls, but, she suspected, they'd be as beautiful as the rest of him. She'd never wanted to see her brother naked before--well, not much, and not very often, anyway--but she wanted to see him naked now, and not just his backside, but all of him, his cock and balls included. She was, after all, cock crazy, as her friends at school were constantly reminding her, and she'd bet anything that her younger brother had a lovely prick and some beautiful balls to match.



All she had to do was to bide her time, she realized. Hopefully, he'd jump or dive back into the lake. If he did, he'd have to get out of the water again before long, and, when he did, she'd be rewarded with a glimpse of his sex organs. Her nipples stiffened at the thought of seeing her brother's genitals, and she unzipped the fly to her jeans, tugged the front of her panties aside, and slipped a forefinger between her labia. She was already moist, and she began to stroke the hard nub of her clitoris while she willed her brother to jump or dive so she'd be able to see his cock and balls as he climbed out of the lake and back onto the pier.



As she watched from her hiding place among the trees, fingering her clit, Amanda saw Porter's knees bend. His calves swelled, and his thighs and buttocks flexed. He stretched his arms above his head, hands together as if in prayer, and sprang from the end of the pier. She watched him as her brother's naked body stretched itself over the water. He arched forward, penetrating the surface of the lake cleanly, a small splash spraying around his entry point, and she heard the sound clearly across the fifty or sixty feet that intervened between her brother and herself. The last image she had of him, before he broke the water, was of his legs stretched behind him and the twin moon of his perfect buttocks, his upper body lost to view below the surface of the water. 



Her finger moved fast and hard against her firm clitoris, and a rush of pleasure flooded her groin as her cunt flooded with lubricating juices. Her nipples were hard as chips of granite. She felt slightly ashamed at the lust she felt toward her brother, but the ignominy was overwhelmed by the sexual passion. He's your brother! she admonished herself, but part of her didn't care.



Although he remained in the lake for only a few minutes, it seemed like forever to Amanda. Even masturbating did not take her mind off her desire to see the rest of her brother's nakedness. She was obsessed with cocks and balls in general, but she was infatuated with the idea of seeing Porter's genitals. Another wave of pleasure crested within her loins, and she shivered, repressing the moan that welled within her soul. It wouldn't do--not yet--to let Porter know she'd seen him naked--seen him and desired him--the way that no woman should see or desire her brother.



After what seemed an eternity, she was rewarded with the sight she longed to see, as Porter swam to the dock, grasped its edge, lifted his upper body out of the lake, and scrambled into the pier. For one magnificent moment, he'd stood, facing her, and she'd seen his beautiful, glorious cock and balls, sparkling with dripping water, like the rest of him. Even flaccid, his penis was long. The cold, she knew, would have shrunk both his cock and his scrotum. Even so, he was obviously well endowed. His prick was smooth, a perfect column, as well conceived and executed as that of any sculptor's most magnificent masterpiece--but it was an obelisk of flesh instead of marble, thank goodness. He was circumcised, as Amanda preferred (thank you, Mom and Dad, she thought), and his glans was a soft, rosy pink, the hue not unlike the blushing color of her nipples' areolas or the velvet flesh of her cunt. His scrotum, shrunken from the cold water of the lake, showed the true size of her brother's balls, which were neither the largest nor the smallest she'd seen or stroked, which was just as she preferred them. She stared intently at his penis and the ovals of his testicles within the taut pouch of their risen scrotum so that she'd have the memory of their appearance to recall tonight as, in her own bed, naked, she stroked herself, as she was doing now, thinking of the beauty of her brother's genitals. Another current of orgasm swept through her, like a risen tide, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, so intense was her passion.



As she watched, Porter turned from her, poised upon the brink of the pier once more, sprang into the air, and vanished from her view as he split the water's surface, entering the depths of the lake as she wished he might enter her own liquid depths.



Again, the inner voice chastised her for her impure thoughts: He's your brother!



A brother could be a lover, too, she told herself.



It was the first, but definitely not the last, time the forbidden thought would occur to her.



Amanda watched her brother dive, swim back to the pier, and scramble back onto the dock several more times, but she did not see his cock and balls again, as she had the first time he'd left the water after the initial dive she'd seen him execute, so she decided to hike back to the cabin.



During the night, as she lie awake in bed, naked, her fingers stroking her clitoris and labia, she recalled the image of him naked on the pier, seeing in her imagination his perfect cock and flawless set of balls. She also conceived a plan by which she might seduce him, her own brother. As she rehearsed her simple scheme, the guilt and shame she felt subsided; soon, she felt neither emotion any longer, having hardened her heart that she might have her way with Porter. She slept fitfully, dreaming of him nude on the pier, oblivious to her hidden presence, her sheet bedewed with the moisture of her drooling sex.



After breakfast, Amanda's parents suggested that the family take a ride into the nearest town, where they could take in a movie, do some shopping, and have a late luncheon at the local diner, but neither Amanda nor Porter were interested, which surprised Fred and Francine.



"I would have thought you'd leap at the chance to go into town," Francine said.



"I like the mountains, the forest, and the lake," Porter said.



"Too bad Amanda doesn't seem to share your affections," Fred told his son.



"There are some things I'm beginning to enjoy," she told her father.



Fred gave his daughter a surprised look. "Oh? Such as?"



She thought of her brother's cock and balls. "The scenery," she said, "especially the lake."



"Why don't you and your brother go boating or take a swim, then, while your father and I are in town?" Francine suggested.



"I'd like a swim," Amanda replied. She turned to Porter. "Wouldn't you?"



Porter shrugged. "Sure."



"I have something to do first, though," Amanda told him. "You go on ahead, and I'll meet you there in a half hour, okay?"



Again, Porter shrugged. "Sure. I'll just put on my trunks and grab a towel."



Forget the trunks, Amanda thought. "Okay, bro." She smiled. With her parents conveniently out of town for the day, she'd have plenty of time to seduce her younger brother. She was looking forward to it.



As before, there was no one on the lake. Amanda was thankful for her parents' frugality. Because they'd rented the cabin during the off-season, there was no one else around, except Mr. Repulso, who, as far as Amanda could determine, seldom, if ever, left his cabin, except to barbecue out back or to exchange a few words with her father. She felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden, except that the only serpent was the lust in her own mind (unless she could count her brother's cock, with was, in a genuine way, a true tempter).



When she arrived at the beach, carrying a towel and wearing sandals and a terrycloth robe that fell to her knees, Porter was already in his trunks. Her eye wandered over his body as she admired his muscular build, his chiseled chest and tight, trim belly; his powerful thighs; his sculpted back; and his compact ass. He was one hell of a hunk, she thought, now that she'd seen him not merely as her brother but also as a man whose nudity the previous evening had awakened her lust. More than anything, she wanted to behold his cock and balls again--to behold and to hold them.

<hr pg="2" />"Hi, sis," Porter called, waving to her as Amanda entered the stretch of grass that lay between the forest nature trail and the stretch of sandy shore along the lake. He sprinted to her, meeting her halfway. "I'm glad you decided to have a little fun during our vacation."



"Me, too." She gave him a mischievous look that made him frown. "You know what would be even more fun than just a swim?"



"What?"



"If we were to swim the way you did yesterday, when you thought you were alone."



Porter feigned innocence. "What do you mean?"



Her eyes sparkled with naughtiness. "You know," she replied. "Naked."



Porter blushed. "You saw me?"



"I watched you from the forest."



His blush deepened. He was obviously surprised, if not shocked, and embarrassed, but he pretended not to be. "I hope you like what you saw?"



"Very much so," she replied. She opened her robe. She wore no bikini beneath the terrycloth dressing gown. She was completely naked, except for the outer garment and her sandals. "What about you, bro? Like what you see?"



Porter's eyes widened. His gaze swept over her full, firm, high, round breasts; her slim tummy; the curves of her hips; the wisps of pubic hair, cut in narrow horizontal bands alongside her labia; the cleft of her vagina; her long, shapely legs. Unable to speak, he nodded.



He still looked uncertain, however, so Amanda told him, "You have nothing to hide. Your body is magnificent--all over."



"I don't think we should skinny dip," he managed to say. "It wouldn't be right."



She laughed. "What's wrong with a naked body?"



"We're siblings."



She chuckled again. "Don't you think I know that?"



"I just wouldn't be comfortable swimming naked with my sister," he declared.



She shrugged out of the robe, letting it fall to the ground, and stepped out of her sandals. The air was cool on her bare flesh, and her nipples were erect, their areolas puffy. Her breasts seemed to stare at him, and Porter returned their gaze. She passed him, so close that he could smell the scent of her perfume. "Take off your suit," she suggested, "and join me. I'll bet the water's fine."



He turned, watching his sister stride toward the sandy shore and the pier beyond that led out over the lake, as careless and as beautiful as a water nymph, not merely unashamed, but actually proud, of her superb beauty, and, Porter had to admit, as he watched her long legs tighten and slacken and her lovely, dimpled buttocks flex and relax, swiveling rhythmically with each step, she was certainly a beautiful woman.



Looking left and right, to assure himself that he and Amanda were, indeed, alone, Porter quickly tugged his trunks down his thighs, past his knees, and along his calves, stepped out of the shorts, and left them on the grass, next to his sister's discarded robe. Slipping out of his sandals, he abandoned them alongside Amanda's flip-flops and bounded naked across the rest of the grass, the strip of sandy beach, and the length of the pier, his cock jiggling and his balls bouncing with each stride. Already on the pier, Amanda stood watching him, her eyes riveted on his bobbing prick and wagging balls. Delighted at the sight, she wore a huge smile.



By the time he reached the pier, although it took him only a few seconds, Porter was half-erect, she noticed, and, to conceal his state of arousal from his sister's gaze, he launched himself unceremoniously into the air, splashing into the lake a good ten feet from the end of the dock.



Amanda jumped, joining her brother. The surface of the water broke, and she felt the rush of cold water seize her as she sank into the depths of the lake, the sound of the splash she'd made dulled by her descent.



Porter was by her side when she surfaced. They tread water to stay afloat. "You really know how to make an entrance," he complimented her. He held her gaze with his own for a moment, and, for Amanda, the sky, the trees, the mountain air, the lake, the whole world, seemed to vanish, leaving only her brother and her, naked and alone together, staring into one another's eyes. "You're so beautiful," he said.



"You know what my friends at school call me?" she asked.



"Tell me."



"Cock crazy."



For the third time in fifteen minutes, Porter blushed, but he said nothing.



'They're right; I am," she added. When he remained mute, she asked, "Guess which of your features I find most attractive?" Under the water, her hand cupped his balls, his cock, and she gave his genitals a gentle, playful squeeze before resuming the dogpaddling motions that kept her afloat.



Porter kissed her lips.



There was nothing chaste or brotherly in his kiss, Amanda noted with satisfaction. "Instead of the swim, what do you say to our going into the woods, finding a quiet place, and . . . letting nature takes its course?"



"I shouldn't even have kissed you," he said. "Not like that. It's wrong."



"It's not," Amanda countered. "Except for modern men and women, it's not even all that unusual." She reminded him of the traditions of incestuous love between fathers and daughters and between brothers and sisters as recounted in the Bible and as were practiced among the ancient Egyptians and other nations of the past.



"That was then," he said. "This is now."



"Times may change," she answered. "People don't. Human nature's the same."



"You're really serious?"



"Duh. Why do you think I suggested we get naked? Why do you think I squeezed your cock and balls? Why do you think I'm here at all? Surely, not because I want to swim in this ice-cold lake."



"You could get pregnant."



"I'm on the pill. Besides, there are other ways to make love than having regular sex."



Porter blushed.



"Do you want to do it or not?" Amanda pressed.



They selected a small clearing hemmed in with thick underbrush and surrounded by a stand of towering pines. After entering this sanctuary in the deep woods, they peered out, between the branches of the thicket, and they were confident that they would not be seen by a casual passerby on the nature trail some fifty feet distant. Amanda spread her open robe upon the ground, and they added their beach towels. She'd slipped on the robe and sandals and he'd donned his trunks and flip-flops to hike the trail and find this bower. Once inside the tangled mass of brush, they'd stripped off these rudimentary articles of clothing. Porter sat while Amanda, on her hands and knees, spread her towel and their blankets before her.



Porter had to admit, if only to himself, that he enjoyed being nude; even more, he liked seeing his sister unclothed. Porter found that he could not take his eyes off Amanda. Although he'd known her all his life, it was as if he were seeing her for the first time. At the lake, he'd checked out her tits and ass, of course, but only for brief glimpses. He'd been too confused with the notions of right and wrong, proper and improper, and permissible and impermissible and with feelings of guilt, shame, and fear to hazard more than quick, furtive glances at his sister's charms, lovely though he'd found them to be. Now that he'd more or less reconciled himself to committing incest with Amanda, he studied her carefully, assessing her every feature, facial and anatomical. His judgment did not change, except to become even more impressed: Amanda was a fantastically lovely young woman. If anything, it was a bonus, he thought, that she was also his sister, because living in the same house gave them easy access to one another whenever their parents were not home, which was frequently, as both Fred and Francine worked long hours, with lots of overtime or often went out together, just the two of them, a romantic couple. Before, Amanda and he had lived pretty much separate lives. That was likely to change, he thought, and his sister and he would begin to take full advantage of their parents' absence in ways that neither of them would ever have imagined before this trip.



Porter watched Amanda as she finished spreading the bathrobe and towels on the floor of their love nest, admiring the feathered edges of her dark hair, thinking of how her tresses reminded him of whipped chocolate. On her knees, supporting her weight on one hand as she used the other to smooth the robe and towels upon the ground, her breasts hung before her, offering him a different view of them. They were not the spheres they normally seemed. Suspended from her chest, they were more like slightly elliptical, inverted domes, capped with the jutting of her small, hard nipples and their surrounding areolas. The sight of them made him want to cup them in his hands, as if to weigh the sleek, full, fleshly teats. Her backside had disappeared, too, from this perspective becoming but a rounded fold between her arched back and the smooth columns of her thighs; there was but the hint of cleavage, at their summit, the great divide between the globes of her derriere hidden, as it were, behind her kneeling form. Seeing him watching her, she smiled, her face friendly, open, inviting. Her beauty blossomed with her smile, he thought, and he smiled himself, back at her.



She changed her position slightly, stretching forward upon one knee, her other leg extended behind her, as she straightened the corner of a towel, and this motion imparted to him a slightly altered perspective, her firm, bouncing breasts resembling more fully-inflated balloons than inverted domes. Again, she changed position, shifting her body to her right as she addressed an errant edge of her outspread robe, and offered him, this time, the sight of the slope of one breast, seen from the side, in profile, a triangular shape, but with a rounded underside, from which her nipple projected as though it were a tiny dial. Every shift of position, Porter thought, offers a new angle, making a woman's beauty eternally captivating and changeable. With every breath she took, with every move she made, Amanda constantly reinvented herself--or, at least, her appearance.



As if to confirm his thoughts, his sister stood, while her brother remained seated, and he looked up, at the two rounded triangular mounds that pointed away from one another at an angle perhaps a little more than that of forty five degrees. His perspective was also foreshortened, so the closer portions of his sister's body--her thighs and hips and belly--looked wider than the more distant parts--her breasts and her head. This was a view of a woman's breasts that Porter had seldom seen outside the pages of a men's magazine, and had never seen with regard to his sister's bosom, and the novelty of it both surprised and delighted him. He chuckled.



"What's so funny?" Amanda asked, her eyes risible.



"I've never seen the undersides of your breasts," he answered. "They look different from below."



"Duh."



"Still beautiful," he added hastily, "just different."



She smiled. "I know what you mean. A guy's cock and balls look different from different angles, too."



"Really?" This was too much information, Porter thought.



"Absolutely. Remember? I'm cock crazy. As a connoisseur of cocks, I've seen just about every kind, and from every angle."



She sat, patting the layers of robe and towels. "Come, sit," she invited.



Porter joined her. She'd laid the terrycloth bathrobe on top of the towels, and its fuzzy texture felt good, although it tickled a little, on the flesh of his bare bottom.



Amanda slipped her forearms under her brother's arms and around his back, her palms resting, slightly cupped, upon his shoulder blades. Her breasts flattened between them as she embraced him. They were unbelievably soft, and they were warm. He loved the feel of their buoyant fullness and their satin-smooth touch. He put his arms around her, returning her hug. For a long moment, they simply cuddled, savoring the warmth of their respective bodies, as if they could meld their forms and become one flesh. Their hearts beat as one, and their breath synchronized without their knowledge or an exercise of conscious will. Amanda stretched her neck, planting a soft kiss upon her brother's lips.



He kissed her back. Then, he slid away from Amanda, allowing her to stretch herself upon her back.



"Fuck me, Porter," she pleaded, "between my tits."



He straddled her waist, and, leaning forward, aimed his cock, which was fully erect, between her boobs. The thick, hard column of smooth flesh brushed past the inward-curving slopes of her breasts, which felt like the sweep of satin against his blood-engorged prick, and, using her hands, she pressed her breasts together, to form of her bosom and the cleavage between her breasts, a surrogate cunt that was almost as tender and soft as her pussy, albeit dry. As her brother shoved his cock between her boobs, she watched the purple gumdrop-glans appear and vanish within the closed-off furrow between her pressed-together breasts and, craning her neck forward, met each advance of the tip of her brother's organ with her lips or the tip of her moist, pink tongue.



From his vantage point above and astride his sister, Porter watched his meat plunge and lunge into her compressed tits. The silk-soft flesh of her boobs ignited new lust, like a series of ever-more-intense firecrackers, in his groin, and he found himself throwing all his strength and energy into the fucking of his sister's tits. He was ravaging the mounds of mammary tissue that jiggled within their tight skin casings, and, judging from Amanda's responses, she was loving the brutal assault upon her chest. She moaned, rolling her head from side to side upon her fanned-out hair, with her eyes closed tightly. Drool dribbled from either side of her parted mouth, and her hear beat fast within her chest, just as her breath came and went in quick, sharp gasps. A strawberry-colored rash appeared upon her bosom, and her skin felt unusually hot, almost feverish. Her nipples were rock solid, the raised areolas surrounding them swollen with engorged blood. "Uh!" she cried, each time he slammed his cock home, his balls colliding against the rounded undersides of her magnificent mammary mounds. "Ugh! Oh! Eh!" Periodically, opening her eyes to gaze lovingly at her brother through a glaze of passion, she'd shriek, "Fuck me, Porter! Fuck my tits!"



He jabbed, thrust, shoved, heaved, drove, and lunged his cock into the tunnel she'd formed by pressing her tits together and holding her fingers curved around the outer sides and tops of her breasts, jerking, yanking, tugging, and hauling the rigid, swollen organ back through the fleshly groove again and again to renew his assault, until his chest heaved with his efforts, and sweat spilled from him in rivulets, dropping onto his sister's abdomen and bosom and she was awash in his perspiration almost as much as he himself bathed in it. As he continued to fuck her tits, Porter watched his sister's face. Aglow with her own perspiration, its lovely features were contorted with concentration to the extent that she seemed to be in pain. Her eyebrows were knitted, her forehead lined, and her soft, luscious lips formed a grimace that exhibited clenched white teeth. The tendons stood out in her neck, and she rolled her head from side to side, her legs scissoring. She continued to moan and groan, to grunt and whimper. 



"Are you all right, sis?" Porter asked. "Am I hurting you?"



"No!" she managed to gasp, between her gritted teeth. "Don't stop! Don't you dare stop!"



Porter couldn't help but to disappoint his sister, as the rising passion within his loins overwhelmed him, refusing to be stymied or denied. He gasped as paroxysms shook his frame. His heart hammered, and his legs flexed, as if an electric current were charging his muscles and nerves. His cock convulsed, and it felt to him as if his balls imploded as semen missiles rocketed from his prick, spurting past his sister's creamy breasts to splatter upon her face. His thick, white seed sprayed her forehead, the bridge and tip of her nose, her lips, her chin, and her throat. Loops and strands and beads of his cum decorated her face like frosted spangles. The wet semen glistened upon her skin, lustrous as melted pearls. The sight of his sister's beautiful face slick with his sperm was incredibly arousing, and he launched still more projectiles of semen against the dear countenance he'd known since his earliest days, gobs and blobs of his seed spewing onto her eyebrows, her cheeks, and her jaw. Several bursts and salvos even adorned the chocolate swirls of her hair, streaking her wavy mane with their white splashes. She wore his semen well, he thought.



As the last sallies of his sperm launched themselves from his twitching, trembling cock, the white jets landed closer to home, ornamenting her boobs. Beads and droplets of the sticky fluid stood, tiny pools, upon the holy flesh of her sacred tits, contrasting sharply with their pink color. The last issue of his seed splashed against her left nipple, coating the rigid projection with its thick warmth.



For men, following ejaculation, there is typically a refractory period, during which the penis is incapable of maintaining its erection, and additional orgasms and ejaculations are physiologically impossible, due, it is believed, to the increased infusion of oxytocin during ejaculation and the body's release of prolactin, which represses dopamine, the chemical that causes sexual arousal. Although women may experience a similar condition, caused by clitoral hypersensitivity rather than by chemical reactions, they seldom do so. Thus, Amanda, unlike her brother, was ready for more sex; indeed, cock crazy as she was, she was eager for it. For her, the tit-fuck had been but the prelude to the morning's main performance.



As her brother stretched out alongside her, Amanda straddled him, her sopping-wet cunt above his face, her full breasts dangling above her brother's belly, and took his sperm-streaked penis into her mouth, tasting the salty seed. She licked the flaccid, semen-coated member clean, collecting all the remnants of his precious seed with her tongue and lips. As she did so, his cock began to respond, swelling and stiffening again. She also licked his balls, bathing the egg-shaped glands through the now-relaxed, loose folds of his ridged and wrinkled scrotum. His prick stiffened further, standing upright. She felt triumphant, as if she'd reawakened her brother's sexuality, as if she'd brought his dying penis back to life. The erection that ensued her oral attentions was proof to her of her power over Porter, of her ability to excite him, to manipulate him, to control him. Less than an hour ago, he'd been concerned about the morality of having sex with his sister; now, he'd not only been only too happy to do so, but he was also more than willing to do so a second time, within mere minutes of having committed the first so-called outrage against human decency (as he'd supposed sex with a sibling).



With the arousal of his cock, Porter seemed to have regained his strength. He no longer lay, spent and exhausted, beneath her. He'd come around, as it were, enough to raise his head and probe between his sister's dewy labia with his tongue and to taste the warm fluids within the portal of her dripping cunt. He licked her clitoris, sending electric thrills through his sister's loins. With a wry smile, Amanda realized that she was not the only one who was capable of imparting pleasure while manipulating and controlling someone else both sexually and psychologically. Her brother could influence her, physically and emotionally, as well. Possibly, she thought, no other pair of lovers could have such an effect upon one another as siblings could have upon each other, as a brother and a sister were likely to be more intimate than any other man and woman who'd met by chance or design rather than through close familial relationship. Although she'd often thought of her brother as a geek, a nerd, and worse, there was, and always had been, the deeper love and emotional intimacy that she felt now in a new, and some would say, a forbidden way, sexually as well as psychologically.

<hr pg="3" />Getting to her feet, Amanda looked down at her brother. "It looks like you might be up for more," she mused, emphasizing the word "up," as she let her glance travel from his eyes to his upright penis.



He grinned. "You have a miraculous mouth."



"Have you ever fucked a girl in her ass?" she asked, getting straight to the point.



Porter blushed. He was always blushing, it seemed to Amanda, which, she thought, was kind of cute. "Uh, no." He had never committed this deed, but he'd read much about it, in fiction, in more clinical literature, and even in philosophy and religion. He'd also thought about the act many times in an effort to understand his great attraction, lately, to anal intercourse.



"You're about to," she said. She knelt upon the spread-out robe and beach towels. Letting her upper body drop forward, her tits jiggling beneath her, she landed upon her outstretched palms, them lowered herself onto her elbows. Her knees were well parted, her back arched, and her buttocks high in the air, their divide parted to reveal the tiny puckered portal to her bowels above the vertical slit of her still-wet sex. "Kneel behind me," she instructed him. "Put it in my ass."



"It's too big," he said.



"No, it's not," she told him. "I've had bigger. Besides, you can stick it inside my pussy first, to lubricate it."



Porter was embarrassed to be receiving sexual instructions from his sister, but, at the same time, hearing her use such words as "ass," "fuck," and "pussy" was erotic. He knelt behind her, lowering his height by spreading his knees and hunching forward, and inserted his erection between her cunt-lips, feeling the slick labia part to receive him, and slid his shaft into the warm, liquid center of her loins, feeling the delicate, velvet-soft petals of tissue within. He worked his prick back and forth inside his sister's most intimate parts until his organ was quite slick with her flowing juices. Reluctantly, he removed his member, which, he observed, was slick with her lubricant.



He brought his knees closer, straightening his posture, to attain the few inches of additional height he'd need to access Amanda's asshole. Taking his cunt-slick cock gingerly between his thumb and first two fingers, to avoid drying it any more than necessary, he guided his prick between the soft, round cushions of his sister's derriere, watching the thick, hard organ slide between his sister's buttocks. Abruptly, his purple glans met the stout resistance of her anal sphincter, and, as he pressed his prick forward, the tip slid upward, rather than ahead, and his cock followed the ascending cleavage of her ass.



Amanda sighed. Porter could imagine her rolling her eyes in exasperation at his clumsiness.



Taking his cock in hand, he again guided the recalcitrant organ toward its target. This time, with a forceful shove, he succeeded in breaching the resistance of his sister's anus, and a couple of inches of his erect penis penetrated her bottom. He was amazed at how tight her asshole was, compared to her cunt. It was tighter, even, than her lips had been when, forming an "O" of them, she'd pumped her rounded mouth up and down upon his stiff-standing prick a few minutes ago. The firm, circular hold of her asshole upon and around his cock felt wonderful. His buttocks flexed, thighs and back muscles tightening, as he eased his hips forward, feeding inch after inch of his prick through the tight opening, into her more accommodating rectum. He continued to penetrate her until the entire length of his erection was buried within her bowels and his balls were crushed between his lower belly and the lower curves of her impaled bottom.



Amanda moaned. This sound was much better, Porter thought, than her sigh had been, signaling contentment rather than exasperation. His sister, it seemed, liked being filled with his cock every bit as much as he enjoyed having it plumb the depths of her bowels.



Porter's eyes widened as he felt his sister's anus flutter about his invading member. Her sphincter tightened and relaxed rapidly, convulsively, pumping itself around his penis, as if in a desperate, but vain, effort to dislodge his invading organ. The sensations felt wonderful, and Porter remained still, his cock shoved so far up his sister's ass that his balls were mashed firmly against the silken globes. Another series of insistent spasms squeezed his dick, followed by a third, each a little less adamant, until, gradually, the contractions ceased as, relaxing, her sphincter admitted defeat, admitting him.



Impaled upon his cock, Amanda had twisted her upper body, rolling her weight onto her left shoulder and bending her right elbow sharply so that she could support herself upon the palm of her right hand. Craning her neck, she was able to look back, past the curve of her right thigh, and see her brother's upper body and face. Her own countenance was intense with passion. "Fuck me," she beseeched him. "Fuck my ass, deep and hard."



A mere generation ago, anal intercourse, or "sodomy," as it would have been called, was considered not only shameful, but also an abomination against God and a crime against nature. Any who dared to practice such an act would have done so in secrecy and in shame. Today, it was considered simply a variant of penile-vaginal sex, an alternate way to make love that provided the spice of variety to couples' sex lives and kept things interesting in the bedroom. Estimates as to how frequency heterosexual couples engaged in the activity varied from 20 percent (Laumann) to 40 percent (Kinsey), with a French survey suggesting that about 30 percent practiced such activity, while a Canadian study showed as many as half the population performing anal intercourse. Perhaps, Porter thought, the differences in numbers were explained by the times in which the studies were conducted and the possibility that men and women in different countries enjoyed the practice more or less than their counterparts in other nations did, with, apparently, Canadians being far fonder of it than Americans or even the notoriously amorous French. For his part, Porter was simply glad that he lived in a time in which the taboo was all but gone, if not forgotten, and whether or not a couple chose to engage in "sodomy" was merely a choice, not a sin, a crime, or a transgression of some imaginary code of decency or morality, for, although this was his "first time," it would definitely not be his last.



Incest remained taboo, however, and the fact that he was fucking his sister in her ass gave him the sexual thrill that, for heterosexual "sodomites," anal intercourse, a generation ago, had provided. He had to admit, silly though it seemed, incest, as forbidden fruit, so to speak, was sweeter than sex with his sister might have been were such an act permissible rather than prohibited.



However, even without the guilt and shame that sex with his sister caused at some subconscious level, now that he'd managed to repress these feelings on the conscious level, the act of butt-fucking his sister was still highly erotic, from a visual perspective alone. Therefore, in watching himself--or his cock--fuck Amanda in her ass, Porter enjoyed much of the same feelings that, a generation ago, he would have experienced in butt-fucking any woman. These feelings--guilt, fear, shame--added to his sexual enjoyment of his sister.



As he withdrew his cock so that just the bulbous glans remained within the portal of his sister's bowels, propping open her anus, as it were, Porter watched the glistening shaft emerge, inch by slow inch, sliding free of the gaping, clutching ring of her sphincter and passing again the inward-curving slopes of Amanda's derriere that it had brushed by but a moment ago, as it had gone in the opposite direction. Then, he eased his hips forward, and his thick, hard prick slid past the parted cleavage of Amanda's soft-firm ass, through the wide-stretched, but still snug anus, and vanished, inch by inch, into the depths of her rectum. Porter watched this same vanishing act again and again, as he pumped his prick into his sister's asshole, never tiring of the simple sights of bloated dick, impaled anus, and full, silken buttocks.



It was no wonder, he thought, that, despite the sanctions both of church and state, "sodomy" had continued, shameful and degrading and wicked though it was once considered to be, to be practiced among men and women--or, for that matter, between men, apart from women. The artist Édouard-Henri Avril had even depicted an instance of anal intercourse between the emperor Hadrian and his male lover Antinous. The latter, Porter recalled, is shown kneeling upon a divan spread with linen, his master's discarded cloak beside him. Hadrian, kneeling behind him, his left hand upon Antinous' shoulder and his cock inserted between his lover's buttocks, ravishes him anally as a female Egyptian, nude but for a headdress, ornate collar, and armbands, fans the ardent couple, her face serene, as if she has observed the intimate lovemaking of these male paramours countless times before. Outside the window behind the fornicating men, pyramids recede, one behind the other, toward the mountains that mark the horizon. Porter, upon seeing the painting in an encyclopedia of art, had found it to be highly erotic, so much so that it had aroused him, making him wonder whether he were homosexual. He'd forgotten the painting until now, as he had his seemingly ancient concern as to whether he preferred men to women. Although he had nothing against men, finding them to be as sexy, in their own way, as women, he preferred the opposite sex as his friends and lovers. Among women, he'd decided, he preferred his sister more than any others.



There was something, just about the position itself of the recipient of anal intercourse, that was arousing to a viewer. The posture--kneeling, while offering to another the most intimate, and (at one time, at least) the most shameful parts of oneself--was superbly erotic, suggesting, at once, a willingness to be dominated, invaded, occupied, conquered, or even, if one imagined the prick to be a weapon, wounded, or, indeed, killed. The pleasure was sadistic, Porter supposed, in a socially acceptable (well, somewhat socially acceptable) manner. The domination, invasion, occupation, conquest, wounding, and infliction of death were, after all, symbolic, not actual; emotional (and sexual), not existential. The figurative conquest of a supposedly or actually weaker, more submissive person, whether female, like Amanda, or male, like Antinous, aroused the same emotions of guilt, fear, and shame that the previous associations of "sodomy" with wickedness and sin had caused, making the act of anal intercourse enjoyable on many levels beyond which regular, or penile-vaginal, intercourse was pleasurable. That was one reason, Porter supposed, that some couples came to prefer anal to ordinary intercourse.



In addition, the use of the rectum as a surrogate cunt was sexy because it denied women the unique position that nature had assigned to them as the incubators of the species' eggs and the carriers of the new life to which they, as mothers, were intended to give birth. There was nothing reproductive about anal sex. As a makeshift pussy, the ass--which eliminated waste, rather than creating life--was the antithesis, almost, of womanhood. Denying women their purpose, anal intercourse made of women mere playthings rather than the ones who brought forth new life out of themselves. The anus, as a cunt substitute, snubbed the pussy; as it were, and, in doing so, it likewise slighted the female herself. For this reason, on a subliminal level, the sight of an unoccupied cunt beneath an asshole crammed with cock was thrilling, for, idle and vacant, an unused pussy showed men's ability to deny women their womanhood. A man could just as well fuck another man in the same manner as to fuck a woman in such a way. An asshole, after all, was an asshole, regardless of whether it belonged to a man or a woman, whereas a cunt was available only from a member of the female sex. The denial of a woman's essential nature was, in itself, a highly erotic, because sadistic, act, and it remained so even when its recipient was masochistic, as cock crazy Amanda, in some ways, at least, obviously was. The only greater act of sadism, Porter mused, was anal intercourse between two men, for such an act, by its very nature, frustrated reproduction, since two men could never conceive a child between them, and it made the penis of the penetrating man as useless as the penetrated man's prick, hanging worthless, between his impaled buttocks.



As these thoughts ran through his mind, Porter continued to fuck his sister's ass with diligence. How could he not? The arching mounds, soft and pink and sleek as only globes of flesh can be, were too tempting, demanding to be employed, to be taken, to be possessed. Again and again, with greater force and fury, Porter slammed his rigid member between his sister's buttocks, the firm-soft orbs flattening before each thrust and rebounding as he withdrew. Her sphincter rode his prick, indenting within the circle of her anus when he plunged his thick rod home and popping out of the rim, a fraction of an inch, as it followed, as much as it could, the retreat of his punishing organ.



Porter rode Amanda harder and faster, increasing both the tempo and the force with which he fucked her ass until what had begun as an act of tenderness and love became a brutal assault, a ravishment exhibiting only his need to dominate and to master. Sex was no longer a vehicle not of love or affection; it had become a means of exercising power and of celebrating conquest.



Slammed hard by her brother as he plunged his prick deep into her bowels again and again, with ever-greater passion, her whole frame wracked by his weight and force, Amanda closed her eyes tightly, gritted her teeth, and vowed to endure. Her asshole felt as if it had been reamed to many times its normal size, as no doubt it had, and the pushing-pulling motions of Porter's cock seemed to first thrust and then to yank her intestines back and forth inside her. In fact, she knew, these sensations were really simply those reported, as it were, by her anal sphincter, which, impaled, rode upon the piston-prick that lunged and withdrew its massive length anew, each moment, within her ass. When she felt she could bear no more and must, any second, be rent asunder by the massive prick that threatened to split her in half, her brother slammed his hips into her behind a final time, flattening the cheeks of her ass hard against his groin, and he shuddered, groaning, as orgasm overtook him.



A surge rushed through his cock, and he felt his molten seed erupt, spewing into his sister's bowels, the fecundating fluid finding no egg to fertilize, but only the spacious, vacant cavity of her rectum. Other pulses occurred as additional semen spurted into her bowels. Porter remained stationary until he'd emptied his full load. Even then, he remained within his sister's ass, his penis slowly shrinking, softening, and dwindling, until, at last, the flaccid, semen-smeared penis passed as if it were a small, soft turd, streaking her huge, gaping anus, the cleavage of her parted buttocks, her neglected labia, and the tops of the backs of her thighs with its slick, thick remnants.



Afterward, they rested beside one another, caressing breasts and chest, vulva and testes-filled scrotum, pubes and bellies, Amanda trailing a fingertip over the semen that she'd let dry into brittle flakes upon her face to feel the sleek texture of the tiny chips. Occasionally, she would wet a finger, moisten a flake, and insert the fragment of her brother's dehydrated seed into her mouth, to suck its salt and savor its musky scent. Once or twice, she shared a morsel with Porter, who enjoyed the fruit of his loins as if the flakes of semen were salted nuts, which, in a way, he supposed they were.



They enjoyed a final kiss before, standing, Porter drew on his trunks and Amanda tied the sash of her closed robe around the front of her waist. Each reclaimed his or her respective towel, and, hand in hand, they ambled along the nature trail that led through the deep, majestic forest to the cabin where, for thirteen more days, they would continue to enjoy what, for all intents and purposes, although they were not married and could never wed, was their honeymoon.



Along the way, they stopped, occasionally, to read a sign that identified a plant or tree and to enjoy the sight and the scent of various wildflowers. "Your friends at school are right about you, Mandy," Porter told his sister.



"Why's that?" she asked, as if she didn't know what he would say.



"You are cock crazy."



She laughed, squeezing his hand. "It's a good thing you're my brother, Porter, because, with you around, I'll have a steady diet of my favorite food, anytime I feel hungry for cock."



They shared another kiss, flavored with his manhood. 

