TITLE    : The Diary of Forbidden Fruit
STORYID  : the-diary-of-forbidden-fruit
SUMMARY  : Nothing tastes as sweet as forbidden fruit.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2008-08-07
CATEGORY : taboo-sex-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |brother|sister|sibling|


"Darrin, throw me down my belt, would you?"



How could anyone, even a chick, forget her belt? I asked myself, especially one who was in her early twenties. Shaking my head, I called, "Sure, sis."



She'd be waiting in the living room for me to drop it down to her. Just having finished my morning shower, I was still naked. Consequently, I had quite a surprise for her.



Her room is the first to the left, at the top of the stairs. Mine is opposite hers. Mom and Dad share the one behind my sister's room, and the one behind mine is the guestroom. Each is equipped with its own complete bathroom, my parents', like the guestroom's, has a sauna as well.



I stepped out of my room, the soles of my bare feet wet on the hallway carpet, and crossed the corridor, into sis' room. She'd left the door open, which was unusual. As I entered, I saw her belt, atop a pair of discarded pink thong bikini panties and a matching bra. I also saw my sister's diary, and, as I reached for her belt, my heart skipped a beat. She'd left her diary unlocked!



My hand trembling, I snatched up the belt, went to the railing at the end of the hallway that overlooked the living room below, and, still naked, my chest and abs and thighs shining with water, held it aloft. "Here's your belt," I announced.



She looked up, and her eyes widened when she saw my bare body, cock and balls as much on display as any other feature. "Darrin!" she gasped. "What would Mom and Dad say?"



I let the belt drop. "They're out of town, Brenda, remember?"



It's not as though my sister's never seen me naked before. I've let her catch an eyeful on occasion. She's seen my butt. I'm the starting quarterback for my college football team, so I wear a jockstrap a lot of the time, even when I'm not practicing or playing a game. Athletic supporters--and I'm not talking cheerleaders at the moment--are a lot more comfortable than a pair of boxers or briefs. They're way sexier, too. It's erotic knowing that only a thin layer of fabric--the seat of my pants--is all that's between my ass and every chick in the world, including Brenda. Once, claiming my toilet was stopped up, I waited inside my door, listening hard for about fifteen minutes. When I heard Brenda's door open, I stepped out, into the hallway, wearing only my jockstrap.



She got a good look at the bulge of my cock and balls, as I'd hoped she would, and I was more than a little hard with excitement.



"Oh! Brenda," I said, acting surprised. "I didn't know you were home. I thought you'd gone to the mall with Mom and Dad."



She'd stared at me, her beautiful blue eyes, wide with astonishment, seemingly riveted on my groin. After a long moment, her eyes still on the bulge in my supporter, she demanded, "What are you doing, parading around like that?" Her tone was sharp, but her eyes continued to gaze, spellbound, at the protuberance of my genitals.



"I'm not parading around like anything," I replied, sounding annoyed. "My toilet's stopped up, and I was going to the guestroom, to use the one in there. If I'd know you were home, I'd have slipped into my robe, of course, but--"



"Never mind," she said.



I shrugged, heading down the hallway to the guestroom. She hadn't gone back into her room, and she hadn't closed the door. In fact, as I passed her, she'd glanced at my buttocks, checking out my tight, full cheeks, framed by the white jockstrap.



I saw her look, and I'm pretty damn sure she continued to stare at me--or, rather, at my ass--until I reached the guestroom door. It was only as I was reaching for the doorknob that I heard her close the door to her own room. Thereafter, whenever Mom and Dad were gone, I made sure to give sis a glimpse of my ass. It wasn't until today, though--just now, in fact--that I'd had the courage--and the opportunity--to show her the forbidden fruit itself.



Now, having done so, I was hard as a rock! My balls ached, and I needed relief worse than I'd ever needed it before. I wanted to masturbate, fast and furiously, until I shot my load, but Brenda had forgotten to lock her diary, and I couldn't afford to pass on the chance to read her deepest, darkest secrets. I'd been wanting to peruse her personal journal for years now, ever since my hormones first kicked in and made me aware of the fact that Brenda wasn't just my older sister, but that she was a beautiful and desirable young woman as well. I might never get another opportunity to read her sacred diary, and doing so wasn't something I intended to forego, no matter how stiff and swollen my prick or how painful a case of blue balls I might have. There'd always be time for a hand job, but there may be just this one chance to snoop through my sister's diary.



She'd gone to Emily Martin's house, to do whatever the hell it is that two chicks do when they're together--talk about guys and watch chick flicks, no doubt--and she'd be gone for a few hours, so I'd have time to read most, if not all, of this volume of her diary. Unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to read the other volumes, because she hadn't left them out, and, even if I found them, stuffed away in her hope chest or in her dresser or on a shelf in her closet, she wouldn't be likely to have forgotten to lock them, too.



It was 7:00 pm, and she'd probably be gone until 10:00 pm at least, but, just in case she came home earlier than I expected her to do, I took her diary to my room. If I heard the front door, I could chuck the book under my bed and swear I hadn't seen her freaking journal, not that she'd believe me, of course. She'd know, full well, that I'd stolen the damn thing. Proving it would be quite a different matter, though.



My cock throbbing and my balls aching, I lay on my bed, on my side, sis' diary at hand, opened the ornate, hand-tooled leather cover, and started reading. As I did, my cock swelled further and became not merely erect but absolutely rigid, like steel. The pouch of my scrotum tightened, rising, and, of its own accord, a clear drop of Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, oozed from the tiny slit in the crown of my purple, swollen glans. On the very first page, I read:



"Since seeing my brother's bulging cock and balls through the front of his sexy jockstrap and his beautiful, firm buttocks, framed by the heavy cotton bands, I've thought of nothing, night and day, Dear Diary, but him, on top of me and inside me--in my mouth and cunt and ass--fucking--no, pounding--me, hard and fast and non-stop until I'm out of my mind with passion, lost in the throes of orgasm upon orgasm. I know it's forbidden, and it may be wrong, but, oh! Dear Diary! I must have him, I must!"



I grabbed my cock and started stroking. I couldn't help it. I'd never been as horny in all my life, and, if I didn't get some kind of relief, and fast, I felt that I would fucking explode! It took me less than a minute--less than twenty seconds, actually--to reach orgasm, and, writhing and squirming, rolling back and forth on my bed, I ejaculated thick, warm, white streamers of semen high into the air, feeling it splatter and spatter on my chest and neck. A few spurts ended up on my headboard, and one, I saw, as I lay panting, my heart pounding inside my chest, had spewed upon Brenda's diary--The Diary of Forbidden Fruit, as I'd come to think of the account of my sweet and sexy sister's confessions.



As soon as my pulse quieted and my heart calmed, I returned to reading her sperm-splattered book of desire and need, pausing to reread such passages as these:



"How many times have I, in my fantasies, reached out to Darrin, my fingertips closing upon the knitted white fabric of his jockstrap to pull the supporter away from his groin and free his magnificent cock, letting its thick length escape the confines of the cotton pouch, my gaze to delight and my heart to astound. I can, during such reveries, smell the fresh, but musky, scent that I imagine his manhood exudes. At the sides of the jockstrap, dark against its white, I see a few strands of his pubic hair, and I want to stroke it, just as I want--oh! Dear Diary! I am all wet!"



"In my mind (and in my heart), Darrin is naked, and his cock, which, beautiful and rigid, is in my hand, so thick that my fingers will not close completely around its great girth. I rub the purple, swollen tip across my lips, as if it were a delicious plum, before taking it into my mouth, my brother's cock the forbidden fruit that I must have, for it is too sweet and delicious to resist, even if sucking it is immoral and wicked and debased. I must sample his manhood. I must taste his seed."



"Darrin delights me in so many ways, Dear Diary, if only in the dreams of my heart. I do not make love to him only with my mouth. My cunt and my ass, like my hands, are at his command, and, with them, too, I gladly serve and service his needs and desires, his every least wish my command."



Needless to say, as I continued to read my sister's diary, my cock reared, rigid as Brenda's own clit and nipples must have been when she'd written her enchanted dreams in The Diary of Forbidden Fruit, unburdening her heart's desire upon its consecrated pages. However, I would not give in a second time to the demands of my groin. I was saving myself for my sister, who, if I'd guessed correctly, should be home again in less than an hour, it being now 9:15. As I resumed reading The Diary of Forbidden Fruit, I wondered what she might be up to herself at the moment. Later, she told me. I see no reason not to include her account, with mine, of our first evening together in paradise. As I read her journal, this is what Brenda was doing at Emily's house.



The blonde was beautiful. They all were, more or less. She had firm, high breasts with soft-pink nipples, erect at the moment, surrounded by puffy areolas; a slim, trim waist; and dandelion-colored fuzz on her pubes. Her silken labia parted enough to disclose the bright, hot-pink tissues of her tender, moist vagina.



The blonde's succulent cunt showed only for a few moments, however, before the strikingly attractive brunette, her hair in a tight bun atop her head, who was stationed between the blonde's wide-parted thighs, bowed still farther forward, pressing her open mouth firmly against the other woman's mount of love and began to nurse at the blonde's swollen clitoris. The passive lover moaned, rolling her head back and forth atop her golden locks as her slender, long-nailed fingers curled in the other woman's raven tresses.



On Emily's queen-size bed, she, naked, allowed her friend and guest, Brenda, perform the same act, and it was one that Brenda performed with as much gusto as the brunette on the big-screen TV employed. Although Brenda loved cock, she also loved pussy. How could one not? It was so sweet and succulent! She loved the way its juices streamed down her chin and made her wet face shine.



She also adored the feeling of Emily's erect clit, a hard bud of flesh at the upper center of her liquid cunt. Stiffening her tongue, Brenda jabbed repeatedly at the little button, flicking it with the tip of her tongue, which was wet not with her own saliva alone, but also with the juices of Emily's flooded pussy.



Like the blonde on the big screen, Emily thrashed her head back and forth on the ornately embroidered pillows stacked beneath her head, her hair fanned out behind her.



Brenda's own cunt was more than moist. She could feel its fluids dribbling down her smooth thighs. Her own pussy seemed to cry out to her to be filled. Wait your turn, she told her sex. Right now, it was Emily's time to enjoy the tongue lashing Brenda was administering to her.



The young ladies stopped, Brenda looking up, past Emily's shining, wet pussy, past the drenched pubic hair, past the gentle slope of her sleek belly, past the under slopes of her firm, pert breasts, to her widened eyes. Brenda's own eyes were wide as well.



They'd heard a pair of knocks at Emily's closed--but unlocked--bedroom door.



"What should we do?" Brenda whispered, afraid they'd be caught en flagrante delicto.



Another couple of raps sounded, more sharply, against the other side of the door, and now Emily's father called. "Emily?"



"Just a minute, Daddy!" Emily replied. To Brenda, she hissed, "Get in the closet, quick!"



"I've been in the closet all my life," Brenda quipped, as she climbed out of the bed and hastened across the carpet.



"Emily?" Mr. Martin called, his tone edged with concern.



Emily waited until Brenda had closed the door to the walk-in closet. Then, switching from the DVD to the TV mode, so that the lesbian couple was replaced on the oversize screen by a show about wannabe chefs and tossing a blanket over her nudity, she called to the door, "Come in."



Mr. Martin opened the door.



Looking at his daughter, he asked, "What are you watching?"



Emily turned to the television set. She watched this channel all the time--it was the closest thing to a gay TV channel on cable to date--but she'd never seen this particular show. "Uh, a cooking show."



Mr. Martin arched an eyebrow. "Cooking?"



"Yes, Daddy. You know, with pots and pans and dead chickens and fish and spices and things."



"You've never shown much interest in cooking before," he observed.



"Brenda wants to be a chef. She turned me on to the show."



"Brenda Brentwood? I thought she was going to college to be a psychologist."



"She is, but she wants to be an amateur chef."



Mr. Martin rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Where is Brenda, anyway?" He'd admitted Emily's friend herself, an hour or so ago, when she'd knocked on the front door, but Brenda was nowhere to be seen. Had she gone home?



"She's in the closet," Emily said.



"Why in the world would she be in the closet?"



Emily could have told him that her friend was in the closet for the same reason that she was: both were afraid to out themselves--in Brenda's case as a bisexual; in her own, as a lesbian. Instead, she said, "She was trying on one of my new skirts when you knocked."



"Oh. Well, could you keep the volume down a little? Your mother and I could have sworn we heard someone moaning in here. We thought maybe you or Brenda were hurt."



Emily giggled. "That must have been the show's judges. You should have seen this one contestant's idea of a chocolate mousse!"



Mr. Martin rolled his eyes again. "Okay, enjoy the show," he said, closing the door behind him.



Emily called to Brenda: "You can come out of the closet now."



Brenda, nude and beautiful, opened the closet door. "Don't I wish," she quipped.



Crossing the carpet, Brenda climbed back into Emily's bed. Her hostess had already cast the blanket aside again, revealing her loveliness in all its naked glory. She depressed the Mute button on the remote control, pointed the device at the DVD player, and the lesbians appeared on the big screen again, in place of the wannabe chefs' competition.



Brenda smiled at the brunette as her long, pink tongue probed deep into the wet, pink slit of the blonde's cunt, licking the walls of her pussy before kissing the dewy labia and resuming work upon her squirming lover's clit. Brenda winked at Emily. "That gives me an idea," she said, taking her place again between her friend's creamy, smooth thighs.



Brenda loved cunt. She loved every part and aspect of it--the mount of Venus, the labia majora, the labia minora, the clitoris, the vagina, even the uterus, although the latter part of a woman's sexual organs was remote and, unless she resorted to fisting or the use of a dildo, strap-on or hand-held, was inaccessible to her. Most of all, she enjoyed having a sopping-wet pussy in her face. She loved having its thick, warm juices in her mouth and on her nose and chin and cheeks. She enjoyed the sight of the astonishingly pink, rose-petal-soft tissues she glimpsed within the parted furrow of another woman's pussy. She was fond of nuzzling and kissing and licking and lightly chewing at the nether lips that framed the liquid pit of a woman's sexuality and of inserting her tongue into the moist cleft, as deeply as possible. At times, she even plowed this crevice with her nose as she worked her way back up the juicy slit to the hard nub of the clitoris within its columnar hood, where she lavished attention upon the excitable bundle of nerve endings, sending half-protesting grunts and groans of pleasure through her lover's cunt, loins, breasts, and brain, making her squirm and writhe. Brenda enjoyed playing another woman, especially Emily, as if she were a musical instrument--sometimes a saxophone, sometimes a flute, sometimes a violin--which she could manipulate and control, making beautiful physical and emotional and psychological music.



Brenda played Emily as expertly as she'd ever played the instrument of another woman's sex. Her mouth filled with Emily's juices, and Brenda swallowed them as if they were the libations of a goddess.



On the screen, the silent lesbians were enjoying themselves in much the same way, but neither Emily nor Brenda watched their lovemaking now that they were engrossed in their own. Voyeurism, for them, was foreplay, no longer needed or regarded when it had accomplished its purpose, motivating within them the same lust that they saw on the ecstatic faces of the partners on the television screen.



Emily began to moan louder and faster, her thighs scissoring Brenda's head, the firm-soft, smooth flesh of the orgasmic woman's upper legs squeezing and releasing the sides of Brenda's face rapidly and forcefully as Emily's throbbing, quivering clitoris sent spasms and waves of pleasure through her cunt, her groin, her breasts, and her brain, electric and fiery and overwhelming. Brenda was afraid that her friend's and hostess' father would hear his daughter's passionate cries and come pounding, again, at Emily's door, demanding what was amiss. What would Emily tell Mr. Martin this time?



Fortunately, the orgasms' intensity decreased, leaving a sweat-soaked Emily gasping and whimpering, but no longer groaning and howling. When she calmed, Emily looked at Brenda, through half-closed eyes, love and admiration shining through, and said, "Wow! You really, really know how to eat pussy, girlfriend!"



Brenda smiled at her. "Thanks, sweetie."



Brenda lay beside Emily, and the latter, rolling onto her side, to face her friend, raised an arm to support her head upon her palm and gazed lovingly at the beautiful naked young woman who'd just played her pussy as if it were various wind instruments in a symphony of lust. "How's it going with Brother Darrin?" she asked.



It had been Emily's idea for Brenda to write the diary, initially as a way by which Brenda could sublimate her increasingly passionate desire to fuck her brother, which had become more and more intense since she'd first laid eyes upon his gorgeous, naked body. It had been Emily's idea, too, to leave the diary unlocked--next to a bra, a pair of thong bikini panties, and the "forgotten" belt that Brenda would ask Darrin to retrieve.



Emily had tired of hearing about Darrin, Darrin, Darrin, and how much Brenda wanted to fuck him. She'd decided, therefore, to assist her friend and lover. Brenda was bi, not hetero, so, Emily was certain that her friend would remain her lover as well; otherwise, she wouldn't have lifted a finger to help Brenda fuck her brother, no matter how much Brenda bitched and whined about her desire to do so. Now, Emily wanted to know whether their plan had worked.



Brenda told her: "He got my belt for me, dropping it over the rail at the end of the second-floor hallway, and, Em--he was naked!"



Emily's eyes widened. "Completely naked?"



"I saw his cock and balls this time, not just his ass--and he was erect!"



"Darrin with a hard-on? If I weren't a lesbian, that would sure turn me on."



"Oh, he turned me on, Em! No doubt about that. Hell, I was wet all the way over here, and, now, you've gotten me wet again!"

<hr pg="2" />"Sorry, dear."



Brenda kissed her lips. "Don't be. I love being wet--the wetter, the better."



"So he saw your diary?"



Brenda nodded. "He'd have had to see it."



"And it was unlocked?"



"Just as we planned." Brenda hesitated. "Do you think he read it?"



Emily laughed. "Oh, yeah, baby; he read it, all right. He's probably still reading it!"



"Do you think he'll get the hint?"



"If he isn't gay, he will, but, if he doesn't, you have me as a consolation prize."



"Thanks, but I have you regardless, right?"



"Always."



The young women exchanged another kiss.



On the screen, another pair of lesbians were making out. One, a redhead, had her fist inside the other, brunette woman's, cunt, all the way past the wrist, and she was fist-fucking her, fast and hard.



Brenda, watching them go at it for a few moments, felt inspired to emulate the redhead, but the numbers on Emily's digital alarm clock read 9:45 pm. It was time to go home, she thought, and fuck her brother. Maybe she'd fist him!



At home, I was waiting for Brenda when she arrived, listening for the front door to open. Wearing only my jockstrap, I greeted her as she entered the foyer. Instead of widening her eyes at the sight of my all-but-bare, tanned, and well-muscled physique, she merely smiled.



"Hi, Darrin," she said. "You're looking well, I must say!"



"I found your diary," I told her, "and I'm about to make your dreams come true."



"Let's not wait another moment," Brenda told me. "Mom and Dad will be back tomorrow, and I want to spend all the time we have left before then in bed with you."



I laughed. "You sure don't mind making your wishes known, do you, sis?"



"I've wanted you for a long time," she replied. "Now that you know of my secret desires, I can't see any point in wasting another moment, can you?"



I opened my arms to her, and she stepped into them. "No, I can't," I admitted, feeling her full, firm-soft bosom against my hard, chiseled chest. I hugged her close, flattening her breasts against me. My hands dropped down her back, slid around the mounds of her buttocks, and squeezed her ass cheeks through the thin fabric of the silk skirt she wore, apparently without panties.



"Let's go upstairs," Brenda suggested.



"My place or yours?" I quipped.



"Neither. Let's use the guestroom. It has a sauna,"



"Perfect," I agreed.



We climbed the steps, my heart beating fast. I was a little nervous. Brenda was beautiful--lovelier than most of the other chicks at college--and, although I was no virgin, having been with more than my share of cheerleaders and football groupies--Brenda was my sister.



My sister! Could it really be that I was going to fuck my own sibling, who'd been conceived by the union of a sperm and an egg from the same parents and who'd conceived me and who'd been carried to term inside the same womb that had delivered me? The very idea seemed preposterous and immoral--but deliciously so! I was going to go through with it, I told myself, no matter what.



I was going to fuck my own sister!



Brenda had preceded me up the stairs, and, with each step she took, I watched her tight, firm, round fanny sash shay back and forth, swiveling seductively, as I imagined what she looked like beneath the clinging silk of her skirt and the tight blouse of matching fabric and design. Brenda had an advantage over me: she'd seen me naked; I hadn't seen her nude. The most I'd glimpsed of her, besides her gorgeous legs, was her cleavage and the lower portions of her ass when she wore a bikini. I was dying to see more of her--or, rather, all of her. I had no doubt that she was as lovely in form as she was beautiful of face, but, of course, I still wanted to see her breasts and pussy and ass in all their naked glory. To say that, by the time we reached the top of the stairs, I was erect would be a gross understatement. I'd never been so hard in my life! I was as rigid as if my cock were solid through and through--and solid steel, at that.



Entering the guestroom, Brenda quickly dispensed with her own clothes, and I removed my tented jockstrap. For the first time ever, I was able to gaze upon my sister as she stood before me completely nude!



She was even more beautiful than I'd imagined her to be. Her slight, narrow shoulders made her high, full, firm, round breasts seem larger than they were and more buoyant, as did the lean, somewhat concave scoop of her belly below, which rose slightly as it merged with the mound of her fuzzy pubes, at the center of which I could see the small cleft of her sex, between her creamy, smooth thighs. Then, her long, perfectly tapering legs led down, to her dimpled knees, along her firm calves, to her dainty feet. I didn't think my rigid cock could get any harder, but, inspired by my sister's nakedness, it did. "My God! You're beautiful, sis!" I spluttered my admiration.



She giggled. Staring at my long, thick, hard prick and my balls, dangling below it, she returned my compliment: "You're not so bad yourself, bro!"



"Your diary said--"



"No," she corrected me, "I said. My diary's just a book; I'm the one who wrote it. The thoughts and feelings--the desires--in it are mine, Darrin."



"You said you wanted to--" I hesitated.



"Do it all," she finished for me: "oral, vaginal, anal, you name it. I want to be yours entirely, Darrin, every inch--and every hole--of me, just as I want you to be mine, just as completely."



"Your wish is my command."



"I was hoping you'd say that."



Without bothering to toss back the bedspread or the sheets or to set aside the overstuffed fringed and tasseled pillows, we climbed into the huge, canopied bed upon the ornate, hand-carved frame.



Tubby, winged cherubs looked down upon our sins from their perches atop the columns of the great bed's four posts, and the underside of the canopy above was embroidered with white, sun-lightened clouds in which a flock of geese winged their way across an azure sky. It was a pleasant place to sleep, and it would prove to be an even more inviting nest for the incestuous lovemaking in which my sister and I were about to engage.



I lay on my back, and my sister lay atop me, her cunt in my face. As she sucked my cock, I ate her pussy. The simultaneous sensations of her smooth, round lips sliding insistently back and forth, up and down, upon the thick, rigid pole of my prick, pausing now to kiss and lick my balls, now to lap at my straining cock, and her warm, wet cunt, streaming its juices over my face as I jabbed my tongue at her erect clitoris, licking and stroking it with my oral member, were so intense that I feared I'd lose control before we'd gotten started.



We took great delight in servicing one another in this fashion, Brenda's head bobbing up and down, at a slow, deliberate tempo, and me licking and lapping at her overflowing cunt, swallowing its juices as they filled my mouth, and taking bliss at the thought that I was drinking my sister's most intimate juices, the very essence of her femininity, just as she was teasing the root of my manhood with her lips and tongue and mouth.



The grunts and slurping sounds that my sister occasionally made while she sucked my cock were erotic, the musical score, so to speak, to the sexual action that we performed for one another's--and our own--benefit. Even more arousing was the steady pumping of her mouth-become-a-vagina upon the standing column of my rigid cock. It felt wonderful to have my sister bathing my most intimate, private parts with her tongue, and, as I continued to flick my own tongue over the hard bud of her clit and to lick the groove of her sopping cunt, I also enjoyed the sensations that swarmed, like bees, in my groin, and the tingling in the pit of my balls.



We continued to perform orally upon one another until Brenda experienced her first orgasm--or, I should say, her first half dozen orgasms, one following fast upon the other and all but disabling her. As the waves of pleasure flooded her, she gasped and groaned, moaning and grunting, until, at last, she was reduced to whimpers as she pressed the side of her beautiful face into me, rolling her head from side to side.



Fortunately, despite the extremely erotic sights and sounds of my lovely sister in the throes of orgasm, even after she'd played my cock as if it were a flute, I managed to avoid both orgasm and ejaculation, and I was as hard, if not harder, than ever.



"I want you to fuck me," Brenda whispered, after the last of the tsunamis of passion had subsided within her, and she could speak, if only in the softest murmur. Gathering what remained of her strength, she rolled off me, and I tolled atop her, inserting my prick into the wet, slick tunnel of love between my sister's damp, silk-smooth thighs. She was incredibly tight, although I strongly suspected that she was no virgin. She gasped once as my massive cock slid through the lubricated portal to her sexual center, before wrapping her long, shapely legs around my back and hugging my upper body to her own. I could feel the soft fullness of her breasts against my torso, and the feel of her sleek flesh was another high-voltage shock of passion, as was the knowledge that the beautiful nude young woman who lay beneath me, my penis inside her pussy, was my own, dear sister.



"Fuck me, Darrin!" Brenda insisted. As badly as I wanted it, she wanted it even more, it seemed. Well, I thought, with a smile, I was certainly prepared to give her what she was begging for.



I lifted my hips, drawing my long, hard prick back, through the rose-petal-soft walls of her vagina and through the portal of her clinging labia and plunged home, hard and fast, launching my cock back into the depths of Brenda's pussy.



"Uh!" she cried.



I withdrew to the tip of my dick, and jammed my fleshly rod back into my sister's sweet pussy, as far as it would go, ramming her cunt as if it were the door to a castle that I must smash to pieces with my battering ram.



"Uh!"



My sister's body, rammed again, recoiled under the impact, her breasts bouncing upon her chest, and I drove my prick again into her depths, feeling the liquid within her sex flow around my organ as if I were fucking a river instead of my flesh-and-blood sister. Back and forth, I pulled and thrust my virile member, fucking my sister with all the strength and energy I could summon. Her cunt made slurping sounds as my hips slapped hers, me grunting and Brenda gasping, and the sounds of our lovemaking ignited new passion within my loins. I fucked her as if she were a common whore to be used and abused.



Judging by her moans and the way she writhed beneath me, tossing and turning upon the rumpled bedspread, she was enjoying her ravishment as much as I was enjoying my ravishment of her. Brenda was a beautiful young woman, and her fine, clear features--especially her wide, blue eyes and Cupid's bow of a mouth--made her the very portrait of innocence, while, in both her journal, The Diary of Forbidden Fruit, and here, now, in the flesh, she revealed herself to me as the most wanton and inspired harlot I'd ever have the pleasure to know. Despite her little-girl looks, I knew the secret, now, of my sister's nature, and I'd never make the mistake again of thinking of Brenda as a little Goody Two-Shoes. Despite her Cinderella demeanor and her Goldilocks appearance, my sister was a Jessica Rabbit or a Sleeping Beauty awakened to lust and passion.



I felt the rising, telltale sign of orgasm, and I withdrew my cock from my sister's cunt, clamping my fist tightly around the swollen shaft, stifling, just in time, the ejaculate that threatened to erupt. I squeezed hard, for several long moments, until the sensations that preceded ejaculation subsided. I'd managed to avert the catastrophe of a premature conclusion to the drama of sex in which my sister and I were engaged, only a single drop of my rich, warm, white semen, like a melted pearl, appearing atop my purple glans.



"Finish in my ass, Darrin," Brenda entreated me.



"It'll be my pleasure," I assured her, rising that she might arise.



Brenda didn't get off the bed, but I did--temporarily, to let her get into position. She rolled onto her stomach, rose to her wide-spread knees, and dropped to her elbows, offering me the target of her lovely, firm-soft, sleek, round ass, below which I could see the curve of her cunt, crescent below the silken mounds of her buttocks. "Fuck me, Darrin," she implored me again. "Fuck me in my ass!"



I climbed back into bed, taking my place behind her, between her parted calves, and, on my knees, scooted close. Gripping my swollen, stiff-standing cock in my fist, I aimed my massive member between the full, sleek cheeks of my sister's bottom, pressing my purple glans against its tiny target, Brenda's tight anus, deep within the cleavage of her buttocks, which would lead me into the inner sanctum of her bowels.



Immediately, I met the stout resistance of her sphincter. Repelled by the tight ring of muscle surrounding her asshole, my cock, slick with the juices of my sister's cunt, slid forward and up, along the crevice of Brenda's ass, plowing her cleavage.



I gripped my prick harder, and tried again. This time, pressing resolutely forward while holding my erection on target, I managed to insert several inches of my manhood into Brenda's tiny, tight anus. Her asshole fluttered frantically, as if in a vain, but desperate, effort to dislodge my invading member. The gripping sensations of her rapidly squeezing asshole were delightful, making my rock-hard cock even harder and thicker and making me even more determined to enjoy my sister in this forbidden manner.



"Your thick, hard cock fills me like I've never been filled before," Brenda told me. "It fills my ass and my mind." She trembled with arousal. "Cram me, brother Darrin! Stuff my ass with your beautiful, thick, long, hard prick!"



She sounded as if she were writing a tawdry novel out loud. Maybe she was rehearsing the text of her next journal entry, I thought, and the notion was exciting. I recalled one of the passages from her Diary of Forbidden Fruit that I'd committed to memory:



"Since seeing my brother's bulging cock and balls through the front of his sexy jockstrap and his beautiful, firm buttocks, framed by the heavy cotton bands, I've thought of nothing, night and day, Dear Diary, but him, on top of me and inside me--in my mouth and cunt and ass--fucking--no, pounding--me, hard and fast and non-stop until I'm out of my mind with passion, lost in the throes of orgasm upon orgasm. I know it's forbidden, and it may be wrong, but, oh! Dear Diary! I must have him, I must!"



I'd already been in her mouth and cunt; all that remained, in fulfillment of her long-held fantasies, was my fucking her ass. Honey, your wish is about to come true, I thought.



The spasms of her anus subsided, and I launched another couple of inches of my cock into her bottom, and another, and another, feeding inch after slow inch of my prick into her ass until, at last, the whole length of my massive member was buried inside my sister's bottom, to the very balls.



A soft moan, more of ecstasy than of discomfort, escaped my sister's lips.



Her asshole, so tiny, had accepted the invasion of my huge cock, relaxing before its advance, so that I'd done the impossible, cramming my enormous prick all the way up her ass, through her tight anus, until my testicles-filled scrotum flattened between her buttocks and my groin, and my prick occupied her rectum to my organ's very root. Never had she felt so crammed, so stuffed, so jam-packed with cock, she'd admitted to me a moment ago, and I had no doubt that she was being sincere, rather than attempting to flatter me, for I am huge down there, bigger than all but maybe five percent of the world's adult male population. It seemed a wonder to me that Brenda's ass had been able to stretch wide enough or that her rectum was deep enough to accommodate a member as gargantuan as mine, but, obviously, she had been able to do so.



I waited a few moments, to let her experience the sensations of being crammed full of her brother's immense prick, before withdrawing until only the tip of my cock remained within her now-gaping asshole. I slammed the mighty shaft home again, watching its full, swollen length disappear within her wide-stretched anus. Again, my balls pressed hard against her rump as my erection, at last, came to the end of its length, filling my sister's ass.



Another moan, louder than the one before, issued from Brenda's lips.



A college cheerleader I'd fucked in the ass just last week had assured me that, in being fucked, especially in the ass, it felt to a woman as if, with each renewed thrust into her impaled ass, she were being penetrated anew. I thought of this confession as I again retreated, drawing my hips back to ram home my member again. Here it comes, sis! I thought as I thrust into her defenseless bottom, shoving my massive erection through its tiny hole and deep into her most intimate, secret depths.



"Uh!" my sister replied.



I grinned at undignified, unladylike grunt and, withdrawing again, I repeated the lunging plunge into her ass.



Now that Brenda had loosened up physically as much as she was loose morally, I began to fuck her with gusto, extracting most of my cock to send it rushing forward through the ring of her anus and into the tunnel of her bowels with greater speed and force each time I repeated this procedure, until my pubes were pounding her bottom, flattening the cheeks of her round, buoyant ass and I was watching them rebound to fullness each time that I momentarily withdrew again, to hammer her yet anew.



"Uh! Uh! Uh!" my sister grunted, as I increased the tempo of my strokes into her bowels.



I crammed and jammed and rammed and slammed my cock into her ass, repeatedly burying and withdrawing my thick, hard organ as I watched the swollen shaft vanish and reappear again and again within the great circle of her expanded anal sphincter, plummeting and emerging repeatedly between the silk-smooth, firm-soft mounds of her creamy buttocks. With each renewed assault upon her bottom, I paused at the end of the advance into her bowels to grind my pubes firmly into her impaled buttocks, feeling their cushiony softness against my groin. Brenda gasped and moaned and whimpered as I continued my merciless, almost frantic assault upon her ass, plunging and lunging, ramming and slamming, until I was all but ravishing her, my own, deeper groans punctuating the higher, musical notes of her huffs and puffs, her moans and groans, her sighs and cries.



Then, as I thrust into her depths again, orgasm seized me, shaking me to the foundations of my soul, my balls seemed to implode, and I felt the rush of semen through my straining, lurching cock. I withdrew, to watch the jets of thick, white semen splatter and spatter against the arched curves of my sister's beautiful buttocks. Some streamers unfurled along her back, and others unraveled upon her perineum or thighs, a few gushing spurts squirting the lips of her cunt. My eyes sought her gaping asshole, and I was proud that it had been my prick--and my passion--that had rounded her snug anal opening to the nearly twice the size of a golf ball, allowing me to look into her bowels and see an inch or more of her red rectum before its walls were lost to sight in the blackness of its interior depths. I had done this to my sister, I thought. I had reamed her a new one!



Fortunately for her, the sphincter is elastic and, over time, it would return to a semblance of its former size, although, of course, it would never again be quite as snug and tight as it had been before it had received my monster cock, and the knowledge that it had been I, her own brother, who's opened her anus would be a keepsake that Brenda would remember--with fondness, I hoped--forever.

<hr pg="3" />My sister let me read her next entry to The Diary of Forbidden Fruit:



"At last, I have had the great honor and inestimable privilege of tasting the forbidden fruit of my brother's love, receiving him orally, vaginally, and anally, a bride to his taboo lusts, which were--and remain--my own passions as well--and, Dear Diary, I must confess, it was sweeter and more satisfying that I'd imagined in all the countless dreams I entertained before the magic of our first moments together, and the taste of this forbidden fruit has only increased my appetite for my brother's thick, hard cock. We have agreed to avail ourselves of every opportunity, now and for all time, of celebrating our commitment and our passion with physical--indeed, sexual--intimacy between us, and I, a devotee of forbidden love, am eager to repeat the ritual of the swallowing of his seed, the ritual of the taking of his manhood into my vagina, and the ritual of the ravishment of my bottom by his magnificent and holy cock."



Reading this entry made my prick rock-solid again, as Brenda had surmised it would, and, by dawn, we had repeated the "rituals" she mentioned in this passage of her journal not once, but twice, more. No doubt, we'd have been able to perform these rituals a third time, but we had to wash the bedding and make the bed. Mom and Dad would be home soon, and it wouldn't do for them to find semen on the bedspread and sheets of their guestroom's bed.



Two hours later, our parents returned home. Brenda and I greeted them in the living room, and Mom, smiling at her children, asked us whether we'd done anything "exciting" in their absence.



We both shook our heads.



"No," I answered.



"Nothing much," Brenda agreed.



Dad said, "That's too bad, but maybe you can do something a bit more adventuresome next month, when your mother and I will be going out of town again--this time for a week, instead of a weekend."



Unseen by our parents, my sister caught my eye, and we winked at one another, exchanging smiles.



Then, my bisexual sister said, "I think I'll go over to Emily's house, if you don't mind."



"Not at all," Mom told her.



"Have fun," Dad agreed.



She would, I thought.



With another wink at me, my sister grabbed her jacket and purse and scampered off to make love to her girlfriend.



I didn't mind sharing her. Brenda was enough of a woman for both a lover who was also her friend and a boyfriend who was also her brother, and she had to do something to fill them time between now and next month, when she could again sample the forbidden fruit of which she'd so long been so fond.



Meanwhile, I'd give the new addition to our college football cheerleading squad a call. She was hot, for sure, but, as accomplished and skilled in the art of lovemaking as she might prove to be, she'd never be a match for Brenda, nor could she replace my sister in my heart of hearts.



Like Brenda, I'd learned that nothing and no one can compare with--or compete against--the scent and taste of forbidden fruit. 

