TITLE    : Sugar and Spice
STORYID  : sugar-and-spice-3
SUMMARY  : ...make everything nice!
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2005-12-24
CATEGORY : taboo-sex-stories
FLAGS    : h
TAGS     : |siblings|brother|sister|anus|asshole|buttocks|ass|cunt|cock|


My younger sister, now nineteen, left home about six months ago. Until then, she and I had had sex with each other three or four times a week since the day she'd turned eighteen. I'm only a year older than Tiffany, and we've always been close. For the half year that we'd had sex with each other, most people--especially Mom and Dad--would have said that we were too close. Tiff's gone away to college, to start on a bachelor's degree in psychology--to become, someday, my sister, the shrink. She wants to specialize in sex therapy.



I miss her terribly, as she does me. We write each other every day. She signs her letters "Sugar," and I sign my "Spice," just in case Mom or Dad see one of our missives. They sound more like the letters that lovers would write to one another than the letters that a brother and a sister would pen. That's why we use the nicknames. If Mom or Dad sees one of Sugar's letters to me or one that I'm writing to Sugar, I can explain it away, even though, if they read it, it would be embarrassing. I could, likewise, explain away a letter that Sugar has written to Spice, not that I'd want to have to do so.



The last time I saw Tiffany, she was wearing the teddy I got her. It's sheer. The top and the panties are both made of some gossamer fabric the name of which only a girl would know. The top is just sheer mesh between an inch-wide band of lace-covered elastic that clings to her chest, above her perfect tits, and some lace-roses that edge the bottom. The panties are the same light, gauzy material, sewn to--the best I can tell--a strip of silk ribbon that serves as the waistband and leg bands. She looks beautiful in it--and sexier than any words could ever describe.



Tiff has long honey-blonde hair; a sweet, innocent angel's face with well-defined, delicate features--large blue eyes; a slender, dainty nose; and small, bow lips, pink and soft and smooth. She has a perfect body--slender without being skinny--flawless skin, and a golden complexion. Her tits are round, full, high, tight--beautiful! Her belly is firm and flat, and her navel is tiny and, I swear, teardrop shaped! She keeps her pussy shaved, and the cleft of her vagina is visible like a little girl's. Of course, she's sleek all over, which makes me want to kiss and caress her smooth, golden flesh, squeeze her breasts, run my hands over her round ass, and slide my erect cock between her wet labia, deep into her drenched pussy.



Damn! Just thinking of her makes me hard! I think I'm addicted to my sister's tits, ass, and cunt.



The good news is that she's coming home! Hooray!



Not to stay. Just for a couple of weeks, for spring break. Her roommate, Cindy, tried to get her to go to a beach somewhere, but she's coming home, instead, to see me--and she's going to bring the teddy I gave her. She's going to wear it for me. She said so in her last "Sugar" letter. I sent a brief reply from "Spice": "Bring it on!"



She'll be home today. This afternoon, about three. I can't wait. My dick is hard just thinking about "Sugar." It can't wait, either.



At precisely three o'clock, Tiff drove up in her Honda. She was by herself, having brought nothing with her but a couple of textbooks, a briefcase, and one of those suitcases on wheels. She was dressed modestly in a light pink top, blue shorts that extended to mid-thigh, white bobby sox, and pink-and-white tennis shoes with thick pink laces. Her hair was in pigtails. She looked fourteen instead of nineteen.



Mom and Dad weren't home. Dad was working. He wouldn't be home before six. Mom was at Aunt Jane's. Her sister was sick, and Mom had been staying with her for the past couple of weeks, keeping house and helping her with her medicine and her other needs. Mom has always been a giver. Tiff was a giver, too, of course, in a whole different way.



"Let me give you a hand," I said as Tiff, having parked in the driveway and opened her trunk, lifting out her meager cargo of luggage.



"It's not your hand I need," she replied, smiling as she nodded at the outline of the erection that was clearly visible through my shorts. "It's that."



I couldn't help blushing. Although Tiffany and I had made love many times since her eighteenth birthday and we had an intimate knowledge of every square inch of one another's anatomy, it still embarrassed me to hear my sister talk like a slut.



"It's nice to see how much you've missed me, though, big brother." She emphasized the word "big," her smile widening. "It looks to me about nine inches worth."



My blush deepened.



"Well, don't just stand there. Help me get my bags inside. I want to change into something more comfortable--like the teddy you gave me."



I didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing the suitcase on wheels, I carried it into the house, too impatient to pause even for the few moments it would have taken to extend the handle.



"My, you are horny, aren't you, brother?"



I didn't reply. There was no need to answer.



I took her suitcase to the guest room, which had been Tiffany's room when she'd lived at home. She followed me inside, closed the door behind us, and stepped into the bathroom that adjoined the boudoir. "I'll only be a moment," she said. "Don't waste time. When I come out, be naked."



I jerked my pullover shirt over my head and dropped it to the floor, kicked off my shoes, unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and tugged my shorts down my legs and stepped out of them, removing my socks. In less than half a minute, I was naked, my erect cock jutting, stiff and swollen, from my groin as if, in honor of my sister's visit, it were offering a salute.



A moment later, the bathroom door opened. Tiff stood in the doorway, wearing the teddy I'd given her and looking more gorgeous than ever.



"You're looking awfully naked," she told me.



"You, too." "I replied.



"I'm wearing clothes," she reminded me.



I grinned. "Not much."



"Well?" She arched an eyebrow. "Are you just going to stand there and leer at me or are we going to fuck?"



"Let's fuck."



She grinned again, crossing the room. I took her into my arms, and we kissed. When we broke for air, she said, "Let's."



Within seconds, we were in bed, and Tiffany had my cock in her mouth.



"Suck it, Sugar!"



My glistening prick slid free of her warm, wet mouth, trailing her saliva. "What do you think I'm doing?" she asked. She giggled, taking my manhood--her brotherhood, I guess we could say--back into her mouth. Her soft, smooth lips, encircling my cock, rode the taut flesh back and forth, up and down, upon my straining shaft. She let my penis drop from her oral embrace again, looking at me with her wide, blue, innocent angel's eyes and said, "Mmm! Sucking your cock's even better than I remember, brother dearest."



"So it is, sis; so it is," I agreed.



"How about eating my pussy? Do you think that would be better than you remember?" she hinted.



"I was hoping you'd ask," I said, sliding her thin, sheer panties down, over her perfect, round ass, past her firm, sleek thighs, to her knees. I left them there, instead of removing them completely. As she repositioned herself on the bed, so that we were both face to face with the other's genitals, she paused for a moment to completely shed her panties. Then, she lifted the sheer top over her head and let it fall to the floor, to join her discarded panties. Now, like me, she was fully naked. I looked up, at her beautiful pussy, and my cock and balls were only inches from her own lovely face.



As she dipped her head, parting her lips, and took my member into her mouth, I began to lick her stiff, swollen clitoris. She squirmed, but continued to suck my prick. I squirmed, too, but persisted in stroking the firm little button of flesh within the hood at the top of her vagina. I could hear the wet, gurgling sounds of her mouth and throat as she sucked and swallowed. My own slurping noises joined hers as I licked and lapped her wet, shining pussy lips and the deep-pink, petal-soft folds of tissue within the deep, slick crevice of her sex.



She licked the tiny opening at the tip of my prick, flicked her tongue over my rubbery glans, and bathed my taut, smooth shaft with her oral appendage. I felt her warm drool sluice down my penis, onto the taut, smooth clump of my testicles-filled scrotum. Then, she lapped at my balls, taking first one and then the other into the warmth of her wet vagina-mouth.



As she ministered to me, I also licked her genitals, driving my tongue like the blade of a plow along the cleavage between her slippery, wet pussy lips, stroking the whole length of her labia and wriggling my stiffened tongue tip fiercely against the nub of her hooded clitoris. My whole face, drenched in her cunt juices, was wet and slick. I could smell my sister's scent upon me. The thought that I was wearing my sister's pheromones made my dick even stiffer. My balls ached. I lifted my head, sticking the tip of my nose into the sopping-wet furrow of her sex, and drew it back and forth within the slick trough, wanting as much of her lubricant on me as possible; I wanted to wear my sister's cunt juices as if they were a cologne.



Tiff, likewise, continued to slurp, gulp, dribble, drool, and slobber. Our grunts and moans and heavy exhalations were a chorus of lust that excited us further.



As we continued to perform oral sex on one another, I recalled the first time that my sister and I had made love. It had been on her eighteenth birthday. Even before she graduated from high school--hell, even before she'd enrolled in high school--Tiffany had known that she wanted to go to college, and she'd applied to several prestigious universities during her senior year. She was accepted at an exclusive East Coast university which boasted among its alumni several presidents of the United States. Whoa! Needless to say, we were proud of Tiff, and, of course, congratulatory presents were in order. Mom and Dad bought her a college survival kit--a how-to-study guide, a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a calling card that was to be used only to phone home (yeah, right!). I'd bought her a poster of her favorite rock star for her dorm wall. At least, that was the present I gave her to open in front of Mom and Dad. I also gave her a more personal gift--a college survival guide of my own. After all, although Tiffany and I had an understanding between us, agreeing that we belonged to one another exclusively, I knew that she enjoyed sex--with both sexes and all genders--and, I thought, for both of us, it was better to be safe than sorry if, in my absence, she did happen to give in to an urge to merge.



My survival guide included the teddy; an assortment of flavored, lubricated, ribbed condoms, with reservoir tips; The Joy of Sex; a dildo; a pair of ben-wa balls; and a tawdry romance novel that advertised itself as "intense, stimulating, and erotic." It showed a half-naked man clutching a half-naked woman to his chest. With smoldering eyes, she looked up, into his eyes, which were smoldering as well. In the background, there was a mansion and a peacock flashed his tail on the sprawling front lawn, beside a spraying fountain. The title of the novel, Sugar and Spice, was the source of our nicknames.



I'd given her the present in private, and she'd modeled the see-through teddy for me. As I mentioned, we've always been close, and Tiff had, even as an adolescent, been unashamed of her beautiful figure, allowing me to see her undressed whenever I wanted to view her without clothes. Of course, she'd expected me to reciprocate, which I was more than happy to do. As a result, we'd both seen each other naked many times. However, in my case, at least, familiarity had not bred contempt; if anything, I'd discovered, abstinence makes the heart grow fonder!



Brilliant as well as beautiful, Tiff has always been extremely open about sex and sexuality. She's been with girls as well as guys, and, on her eighteenth birthday, she'd included me as one of her male lovers. In fact, after our third time, we'd become exclusive, committed lovers, boyfriend and girlfriend as well as brother and sister, and the ring she wore had been a gift from me, representing our commitment to one another, both as siblings and as lovers. Still, one could never be too cautious when it came to sex; hence, my gift of her survival kit, not that I'd be happy to hear she'd had occasion to use it.



Siblings who commit incest are supposed to suffer emotionally as a result, but neither Tiff nor I ever did. Even from the beginning, there was no guilt, no remorse, no shame, and no fear associated with our lovemaking. We felt only pleasure, joy, and love. Sexual intimacy simply intensified our feelings for one another, making us even closer than we'd been before we'd had sex with each other. We understood that our responses to incest were different than most siblings' feelings about such a relationship, and Tiffany, always thinking ahead, had decided to use us as the guinea pigs for the study of sibling incest that she'd undertake for her doctoral dissertation.



A psychology major, she planned to become a sex therapist, helping so-called incest survivors. The problem with siblings who considered incest a problem rather than a joy, she believed, wasn't the sexual acts that they'd performed with one another but their attitudes toward these acts, which they'd learned from society, accepting them uncritically. The key to their recovery was to embrace, rather than reject, their experiences and to see them as having been positive and fulfilling rather than negative and destructive. "Don't worry," she'd reassured me upon announcing her intentions to make us the subjects of her research. "I won't use our real names." Instead, she'd refer to us as "Sugar" and "Spice."



The first night we'd made love, we'd kept it simple. As I'd sat at the edge of her bed, Tiffany, on her knees, had gone down on me, fucking me with her face, and I'd shot my load of thick, white cum all over her--there'd been gobs of semen in her hair, streamers against her cheeks and lips and chin, and volumes over her breasts. She'd licked her lips, smiling up at me. "Delicious!" she'd cried, giggling. Afterward, we'd lain together in her bed until dawn, but other than to caress one another lightly, to kiss, and to cuddle, we did nothing more.



The experience had been sweet and wonderful, more romantic than sexual, despite my sister's having taken my ejaculate in her face. It had been the start of much more intense, sometimes even brutal, sex between us, however, and it wasn't long before we'd done everything--cunnilingus; sixty-nine; anal intercourse; regular, penis-vagina intercourse; spanking; and a whole lot more. Despite her innocent schoolgirl looks, Tiff is quite a slut.



After our third lovemaking session, I'd given her the ring and had asked her to be my girl, exclusively. She' accepted my proposal, and we've gone steady since. Although we could never marry, we could live together as husband and wife, which is what we plan to do as soon as Tiff graduates.



Now, as we continued to service one another orally, with her on top and me on the bottom, I was excited at the sight of her dripping-wet cunt, but I was even more excited by the inward-curving slopes of her creamy, smooth buttocks and the tight asshole within the parted cleavage between these twin spheres of loveliness. "Let me finish in your ass," I requested. 



Tiffany's mouth came off my cock. "Sure, bro."



She got out of bed, eyeing my stiff-standing erection. "You can put that sweet meat anywhere you want, honey, whenever you want."



"Thanks, sweetie."



Tiffany climbed back onto the mattress, knelt, facing the headboard, with her knees wide apart, and rested the weight of her upper body upon her elbows. Her ass was high in the air, cheeks parted invitingly. I could see the tiny, tight anus between her golden globes. "Thank you," she said, emphasizing the "you."



I climbed up behind Tiffany, the mattress bouncing and jiggling beneath my knees. My sister's tits also bounced and jiggled beneath her chest. She giggled. "We haven't even started, and the earth is moving," she quipped.



"Ha ha," I answered, chuckling despite the corniness of her comment.



After lubricating my cock and my sister's asshole, I took my stiff, hard prick in my fist, guiding the tip of my erection between Tiffany's luscious ass cheeks. The glans pressed at her anus, meeting stout resistance. I wriggled my hips, jabbing my cock head more firmly, more resolutely, into the dimple, and I felt the ring of muscle expand, opening, to accept my member. Tiff gasped, feeling my thick, long cock slide through her asshole.



"You okay?" I asked.



"Sure, honey. Fill my ass with your big brother cock."



I'd inserted a couple of inches. Now, I pushed another couple of inches of my manhood through my sister's asshole, watching the thick column of rigid flesh vanish within the wide-stretched ring of her anus. Tiffany squirmed, biting her lower lip.



"You okay?" I asked again.



"Yes. Stop asking. I'll let you know if there's a problem."



"Just trying to be considerate, sis."



"I know, and I appreciate it, but asking me if I'm all right every two or three seconds--or every two or three inches--tends to break the mood."



"Okay, sorry." I slid another two inches of cock into my sweet sister's behind. Pausing, I let Tiff enjoy the sensation of being crammed full of her brother's prick as, once again, I enjoyed the sight of my penis stretching my sister's asshole to many times its normal size. Although I loved Tiffany immensely, it was hard to think of her as anything other than a slut when she was like this, with my cock rammed up her ass.



I'd fucked her in the ass before, many times, but it never ceased to amaze me how she could take my nine inches up her tight little ass or, for that matter, how my monster cock could even fit through her snug asshole. Girls were like that, though. They might look small and helpless, just as they could look innocent and naïve, but they were able to reduce a much bigger, more powerful man to a whimpering, mewling, ejaculating weakling. Hell, while we were trying to recover from one orgasm, they could be having their fourth or fifth and, without the need to recuperate, they could be ready to go again, right after they'd reached ecstasy for the sixth time in a row.



Shoving the remaining three inches of my prick through Tiffany's asshole, I'd now completely filled her with my erection, and she was as skewered upon the thick, rigid pole of my manhood as a roasting pig on a spit. She looked a hell of a lot more enticing, though, with my cock up her ass than a boar looked with an apple in its mouth. Looking down, I could see nothing of my cock; it was completely buried in my sister's ass, and all I could see were the tops of my thighs and my lower belly pressed tight against her flattened buttocks. I could feel her anus around my cock, though, forming a tight ring, as the lips of Tiffany's mouth had done a few minutes ago when she'd been fucking me with her face. That was another thing about girls--almost any part of them--pussy, hands, mouth, or ass, it seemed--could be used as a cunt/ They were designed for sex. God or nature, take your pick, had built them to satisfy men--or women; again, take your pick--sexually. Was it an accident that a sister could excite and satisfy her brother the way that Tiffany excited and satisfied me? I don't think so, not if we consider all the incest stories recorded in the Bible or all the instances of incest observable in nature.



Tiff interrupted my reverie, wriggling her cock-stuffed ass. "Fuck me."



Rearing back to let my cock slide back through her asshole, I plunged home, driving my thick prick deep into my sister's rectum.



"Ahhh!" she moaned.



Her passion ignited my lust, and I jerked my cock back down the smooth tunnel of her bowels. With just the glans remaining inside her asshole, I drive my organ again into her depths. Again and again, I repeated this same action, increasing the tempo and the force of my thrusts. Tiffany's buttocks jiggled and swayed, as did her breasts. Her ass cheeks flattened before my every lunging thrust into her ass and bounced back with my every momentary retreat.

<hr pg="2" />"Uhhh!" she groaned.



I smiled. The language of love, I thought, wasn't poetry; it was a cacophony of moans and groans, whimpers and sighs. I slammed my prick through my sister's asshole, and she moaned again.



Speak to me, darling sister! I thought, plunging my cock again into her bowels.



"Uhhh!"



My cock became a piston, pumping hard and fast within the cylinder of her rectum. The more she moaned and groaned, the more she gasped and sighed, the more she whimpered and mewled, the harder and faster I lunged and plunged, thrusting and jerking my cock inside her gaping anus. Her slight frame was rocked hard before my thrusts, and her titties jiggled and bounced, just as the soft, but firm, smooth cushions of her ass flattened and sprang back with each momentary assault and retreat of my cock within her bowels.



"Uhhh!"



Wham!



"Ahhh!'



Slam!



"Oooh!"



Ram!



"Uggh!"



Bam!



The language of love is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing, I thought, but lust and the human need to take and be taken.



For the last half minute, the telltale signs of orgasm had been building inside me. Now, an overpowering sensation of ecstasy swept through me, and I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, and let fly the semen that rocketed from the balls inside my high, tight scrotum. Semen spurted deep inside my sister's ass as my moans and groans joined hers.



Hastily, I jerked my hips backward, pulling my prick from Tiffany's behind, and watched the thick, white streamers unfurl upon her backside. Another volley of the viscid seed burst against the golden globes of her buttocks, running like white syrup down her flanks and the backs of her thighs. More sperm flew, spattering her lower back and shoulder blades. Semen continued to rain down upon my sister's back and bottom, a shower of her brother's seed.



As sexy as it was to watch my cock pump its load of jism onto my sister's buttocks, legs, and back, it was even sexier to contemplate what my pounding prick had done to Tiffany's asshole. Compared to its normal size, her wide-stretched anus was huge! It was larger than a half dollar, and I could see the dark interior beyond the reamed pink orifice and knew that, in studying that darkness, I was looking into my sister's bowels.



Most women would be ashamed to show these deepest, most intimate and private depths of themselves, but Tiffany was ashamed of no part or aspect of herself, whether sexual, physical, or emotional. For her, any sort of sex in which two consenting adults chose to engage was perfectly acceptable and appropriate, sodomy no less than incest, and incest no less than "normal" relationships. In summarizing her views on the subject to me, she'd referred to a statement by Doc Holliday in the movie Tombstone. As he lay on his deathbed, Wyatt Earp visited him, and Doc asked his friend what Wyatt wanted most. "Just to live a normal life," the lawman replied, to which Doc answered, "There's no normal life; there's just life." The same was true of sex, Tiffany insisted. "There's no normal sex," she'd say. "There's just sex." That's why, as much as her beauty or her brains, her education or her experience, Tiffany's going to make the world's best sex therapist. She knows. She knows, and she accepts.



I'd made quite a mess of my sister's ass, but we'd both enjoyed it, and, of course, no harm had been done. In due time, her reamed asshole would return to its normal size--well, almost, anyway.



"Thanks, sis," I told her. "I needed that."



"It's too bad Dad will be home in an hour or so," she said. "I'd like to have kept you up all night."



I smiled at the double entendre. Tiff was as good with words as she was with her mouth, her hands, her tits, her cunt, and her ass. Even her words could become cunts when she wanted them to be.



"We can still cuddle a while," I said.



We lay together, side by side, luxuriating in the simple feel of our bare flesh touching. From time to time, we kissed. Verbally, we renewed our confessions of love and our intentions of remaining steadfast and lifelong lovers who were married in the only real sense there is--in our hearts and minds, in our bodies and our souls.



Thirty minutes or so later, the telephone rang on the nightstand rang.



I picked up the receiver. "Hello?"



A voice spoke at the other end of the line.



Instinctively, I covered the mouthpiece with my hand as I mouthed the words "It's Dad" silently to Tiffany.



I listened. "Yes, she's here with me right now," I said. I paused, listening. "Okay. Hold on a sec."



"He wants to say hi," I announced, passing the telephone to my sister.



"Hi, Dad," Tiffany greeted our father over the telephone. "What? No, no. That's all right. Sure, I understand. Okay. I'll tell Mike. Love you, too. Bye."



She handed me the telephone, and I replaced the receiver in its cradle. "Tell me what?"



Tiffany smiled, looking radiant. "Dad has to work late. He's going to stay at a motel tonight." She looked deeply into my eyes. "He won't be home until tomorrow morning."



I grinned. "Let's work some more on your dissertation," I suggested.



"There's no normal sex," she said. "There's just sex."



My mouth found hers, and my hand cupped her breast. This time, I thought maybe we'd start with vanilla sex. "Exactly," I agreed, stroking the already-erect nipple of the breast I held. "There's just sugar and spice." 

