TITLE    : The Key
STORYID  : the-key-3
SUMMARY  : A key unlocks a door between two sibling lovers.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2005-12-17
CATEGORY : taboo-sex-stories
FLAGS    : h
TAGS     : |18-year-old|19-year-old|brother|sister|siblings|


Katie, my nineteen-year-old sister, sleeps naked.



How do I know? Her bedroom and mine are next to each other, joined by a connecting door. Of course, the door is locked, and only Mom and Dad have a key to it--or so everyone thinks.



One day, Mom let herself into Katie's room through mine. She forgot the key, leaving it in the lock on my side of the door.



I couldn't believe my luck! I grabbed the key and almost ran downstairs, on the way to my car, which was parked along the curb in front of our house.



Mom was busy making Dad's breakfast--scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast, with coffee and o. j. Whether it's sex or food, my parents are boringly traditional. "Where are you going in such a hurry, Tommy?" she called after me.



"Out," I shouted, as the screen to the front door slammed shut behind me.



My heart was racing faster than my car as I drove downtown to the locksmith's shop. Mom would go to retrieve the key she'd left in the door between Katie's room and mine as soon as she remembered having forgotten it. I wanted to be home, with the original key, inserted back into the lock, and the new spare key, in my pocket, before she remembered. Otherwise, unable to find the key, Mom might have the lock on the door changed.



Parking outside the locksmith's shop, I almost sprinted inside.



"Hi, Kevin," Mr. Martin greeted me as I hurried along the aisle to his counter at the back of the store. "What can I do for you today?"



I placed the key on the counter. "I need to get a copy of this key made," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.



He picked up the key, turned it this way and that, and gave it a close examination. I swallowed. Irrationally, I feared that he might somehow recognize the key and know what lock it fit, which would enable him to figure out why I wanted a copy. But he just smiled. "No problem," he said.



As he set to work, I thought, Hurry! I wanted to get the original key home and back into its lock as soon as possible.



After a few minutes, which seemed like hours to me, he was finished. "Here you are, son," he announced, handing me the original key and its newly created bright, shiny copy. "That'll be two fifty, please."



I handed him three bucks. "Keep the change," I blurted, hurrying toward my waiting car.



I was home again in less than ten minutes.



Mom and Dad were having breakfast.



"Tommy?" I heard my mom call as my feet pounded the stairs. I didn't stop.



From downstairs, I heard Dad say to her, "These kids are always in a big hurry to go nowhere and to do nothing."



"Now, George," Mom remonstrated.



That's the last I heard of their conversation, because I'd closed my bedroom door behind me and rushed to the door connecting my room and Katie's, slipping the key as quietly as I could back into the lock so as not to disturb my sister in case she were home and sleeping.



It looked as if I'd succeeded in making a copy of the key. Apparently, Mom hadn't yet remembered leaving it behind.



I decided to give her a chance to remember--and to retrieve the key. I ran downstairs, to my parked car, and drove to Chad Beaker's house.



Chad lived three blocks away, on Naples Street. I'd known him since kindergarten. Now, both of us eighteen-year-old high school seniors who were due graduate in a month, we were best friends. It had been Chad, in telling me about how he'd seen his twin sister Laurie naked, who'd piqued my curiosity about Katie's body.



Upon arriving at his house, his mom had told me to go on up to his room. I had, knocking at his door.



"Who is it?" he demanded, and I'd told him, "Tommy."



"Come in," he'd invited me, and I'd opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Unlike my paranoid, straight-laced parents, Chad's mom and dad allowed him to close his bedroom door when he had guests over. Hell, he could even lock it if he wanted, which he did whenever we checked out his Playboy and Penthouse magazine collections.



"What's up?" Chad asked.



"Your cock," I said.



"You wish."



I'd come to hate this repartee, thinking it as stupid as it was adolescent, a carry over from our younger years, but Chad insisted that we continue it. In his own way, he was as traditional as my parents, I thought.



Anyway, now that this asinine banter was out if the way, I could get down to the real business at hand. I'd come to hear again--for the thousandth time--how Chad had come to see his sister naked, not once--lucky bastard--but lots of times.



If it had been Chad who'd brought the topic up, I'd have shut him down at once. I mean, sure, Laurie's a hot chick, but hearing the same old stories about Chad seeing her nude had become old the third or fourth time he'd told them, and it's gotten harder and harder to listen to them since. This time, it wouldn't be hard to listen, though; this time, his stories would be as exciting to hear as they had been the first time I'd listened to Chad recite them. The problem was how to bring up the topic without alerting Chad to the fact that something was afoot.



"Where's Laurie?" I asked nonchalantly.



Immediately, Chad was suspicious. "Why?"



"I'm horny," I claimed. "Maybe she'll fuck me."



"Watch your mouth. That's my sister you're talking about."



"Why the sudden concern?" I demanded. "You've told me enough times about how you'd love to fuck her yourself--if Laurie wasn't your sister."



"That's different."



I snorted. "Yeah? How?"



Chad's eyes narrowed as color rose in his face. He was becoming angry. "Because she is my sister."



"She's your sister, so it's okay for you to say you'd like to fuck her but it's not okay for me to say maybe she'd fuck me?"



Inadvertently, I'd hit on the perfect strategy for bringing up the topic of Chad's having seen Laurie naked without his wanting to know why I wanted to hear the stories again. By making Chad mad, I could keep his attention on his anger instead of on my motive for asking to hear his naked sister stories again--provided that I didn't make him too angry.



"That's right," Chad agreed. "I don't talk that way about Katie; you don't talk that way about Laurie."



It was time to act chastised. "Sorry," I mumbled.



Chad continued to regard me with his narrowed eyes and reddened face, deciding whether to kick my ass or accept my apology. "Okay," he said, his demeanor softening, "but watch your mouth."



"Sorry," I repeated. "It's just that--well, sometimes I think about how you've seen Laurie--you know--naked."



"I should never have told you about that," Chad contended, but I could tell that my mentioning the incident had made him want to talk about it again.



"She was coming out of the bathroom, wasn't she, with nothing on, carrying a pillow in front of her?"



Chad's eyes had a dreamy look. "Yeah," he said, "one time, she was."



He told me the stories again. This time, I listened as if I were hearing the anecdotes for the first time, and it made my dick rock hard. Hell, if I'd had a tape recorder, I'd have recorded him; if I'd had a pen and some paper, I'd have taken down his every word. In general, this is what he said:



We lived in the old house, on Fenton Street. Laurie's bedroom was across from mine. Sometimes, when Mom and Dad were downstairs, I'd hear a noise, as if she'd dropped something. The first couple of times, I ignored it, but, finally, when I kept hearing these same types of sounds repeated at odd moments of the day or night, I'd wonder what the hell my sister was doing.



My curiosity got the better of me. The next time I heard a similar sound, I opened my door and popped my head out. Laurie was across the hall, in her room, but her door was open--and it was open more than just a crack; it was open about a foot and a half, maybe two feet, wide. She had her back to me, and she was bent forward at the waist, with her right foot lifted, putting on her panties. Her whole ass was bare, and I could see the underside of one of her tits hanging out under her armpit. I stood there with my mouth wide open, staring at her creamy, smooth butt and her soft, jiggling boob, watching her straighten up as she tugged her blue silk panties over her calves and up the backs of her thighs to her hips. When she'd pulled them completely on, I realized that they were thongs! My God! I remember thinking, my sister wears thongs!



That was the first time I ever saw Laurie naked, but it wasn't the last. I'd hear the noises again--a bumping sound or a crashing sound or a thumping sound--and, sure enough, when I'd open the door, she'd be standing there, across the hall from me, in her bedroom, with her door half open, naked or half naked. She'd always act as if she were unaware of me, though, but I knew she wasn't. The bumps and crashes and thumps were signals, not accidents. These noises, always when Mom and Dad were downstairs or away from home, were intentional. They were her way of letting me know that she was putting on a show.



Piece by piece, so to speak, I got to see all her charms--her tits, her ass, her cunt. She's damned pretty, Tommy. You know that? Damned pretty. And she dyes her pussy hair to match the hair on her head, so she's a peroxide blonde above and below. Of course, she keeps her bush neatly trimmed. Once, I saw the cleft of her cunt and the pink flesh inside her pussy lips. She was lying on her bed, with her door wide open this time, pulling on a pair of tight jeans. She wasn't wearing any panties, and, as she wriggled around, trying to pull her jeans up, her pussy lips parted once or twice, and I saw inside. God, there's nothing prettier than the pink inside a cunt. The crayon companies should come out with a Pussy Pink color. 



Anyway, Laurie got bolder and bolder. One day, I heard the Pussy Signal, and I open my door to see that she'd come completely out of her room. She was walking down the hall, with just a pillow in front of her, and I could see her tight, cute ass sashaying back and forth and kind of rolling up and down at the same time, and my cock was hard, man, like fucking steel. She went into the bathroom and shut the door. Of course, I stood there, waiting to hear the bathroom door open again--thank God, it creaked. When I heard the sound, I was waiting, and I saw her coming back up the hallway to her room, with that pillow in front of her, blocking her tits and cunt. All I could see were her legs, from the thighs down, and I wondered why Laurie' had had this sudden attack of modesty. Then, when she was right across from my doorway, where I was standing with the damned door wide open, she started with a jerk of her shoulders and a little gasp, her head turning to me. She stared at me with her eyes wide and her mouth agape, as if she were shocked to see me--and dropped that fucking pillow! Man, I saw everything--tits, with stiff, jutting nipples; puffy areolas; tiny navel button inside the flat, smooth plain of her belly; trim blonde bush--everything.



"Chad!" she whispered, as if she were surprised. "I didn't know you were there!" Even then, she made no move to pick up the pillow or hightail it to her room. Pretending to be paralyzed with shock or outrage or embarrassment or whatever, she stood there, letting me look at her naked body for half a minute or more. Then, she snatched the pillow from the floor and scurried into her room, giving me another look at her bare ass in the process. She didn't slam her door; she shut it ever so gently. Sometimes, I think maybe Laurie was trying to get me to do more than look at her naked body.



That's the way he concluded his anecdotes--the same way as always, having recited the exact words he's used all the many other times he's recounted these same stories and ending his accounts with the same statement: "Sometimes, I think maybe Laurie was trying to get me to do more than look at her naked body."



I've never asked him this question before, but, feeling perverse--and living dangerously--I decide to tweak him with it this time, so I ask, "Have you and Laurie ever dome anything?"



He scrunches up his brow at me. "Like what?"



"You know."



"Hell no! That's fucking gross, man. Laurie's my sister."



"She doesn't seem to mind you taking a peek now and then--and more than a peek."



"That's different. She's a chick. All chicks are exhibitionists."



"Even sisters?"



"Of course. Hasn't Katie ever showed you her body?"



No, I thought, unfortunately she never had. I shook my head. "She hasn't." But I wished she had.



"She will," Chad predicted.



"Not Katie."



"Sure she will. She's a girl, isn't she?"



"She never has."



"All she needs is the opportunity; she already has the means and the motive."



"You think so?"



"I know so."



I thought of the key in my pocket--the key to the adjoining door between Katie's bedroom and my own. She could have the opportunity, I thought. The key seemed red hot, as if it might burn a hole in my pocket.



"Where you going?" Chad asked as I headed for his door. "I just got a new Playboy."



"I'll check it out next time," I answered. "I have to be getting home."



When I reached my house, I went straight upstairs to my room. As I'd hoped, the key was gone. Mom, having remembered or missed it, had retrieved it. The lock looked the same. To test it, I removed the key from my pocket, inserted it softly into the lock--it fit as well as a cock inside a virgin's cunt--and gently turned it to the left. The lock opened, and I could ease the door forward on its hinges. The rectangular panel of wood that had so long denied me access to my sister's bedroom swung open, and I saw Katie's inner sanctum--the full-length mirror on the inside of her bedroom door, the mirror over her dresser, the posters of teen heartthrobs on her walls, her desk and chair, her night table, and the dolls and teddy bears seated or lying on her bed. I thought of the many times she may have stood naked before one of those mirrors, admiring the soft slopes of her breasts, the swelling curves of her hips, and the round mounds of her silk-soft derriere. I thought of her trying on her bras and panties. Had she studied the budding of her breasts at puberty, wondering how her blossoming bosom stacked up against the other girls in school? Had she touched herself the way she'd imagined a favorite boy in school might touch her? Had Katie wanted to share the sights of her tits and ass and cunt with her sibling? Had she slipped her finger between her labia and fingered the slick clitoris within her tender, wet cunt, thinking, perhaps, of my hand in place of her own? Had she lain in bed, on her back, with her thighs spread wide, masturbating with a dildo and wishing that the artificial prick were, instead, her brother's warm, hard cock?



Probably not, I told myself, but I could wish, couldn't I?



I hesitated. I wanted to cross the threshold and enter the forbidden interior of my sister's private chamber, but to do so would be risky. What if Mom caught me trespassing on my sister's sanctuary? What if Dad saw me invading my sister's boudoir? If that happened, the least I'd have to worry about would be the loss of my key.



But I could be careful, couldn't I?



I would be careful.



Very careful.



And I wouldn't stay long.



Just long enough to touch the blanket and sheets upon which my sister lay--thinking, perhaps, of me. Just long enough to open her drawers and touch the silk and satin of her panties and the ribbons of her lacey bras.



My cock was hard, and my balls had risen inside my tightened scrotum.



I really shouldn't, I thought.



Maybe, for just a moment. . . .



I stepped over the threshold, into my sister's room--and it was wonderful, just to be here, in the same room where Katie had stood naked, where Katie had dressed and undressed, where Katie had, no doubt, masturbated, her mind awhirl with thoughts of sex.



I crossed the room, to Katie's dresser. I opened the top drawer. As I'd supposed, she used this drawer for her underwear. It was full of panties--a garden of panties, a rainbow of them. Red panties, pink pantries, white panties, black panties, blue panties, green panties, and more, in ten or more different hues and shades. Some were cotton; others were silk; still others were satin. A few pair were, like Laurie's, thongs. Like Chad's sister, my sister also wore thongs! The thought of my sister wearing thong panties was almost more than I could bear; I almost lost it then and there, spurting my seed over the top of my sister's dresser, into the mirror behind the chest of drawers, and onto the panties inside the opened drawer. 



Instead, I closed the drawer and strode to my sister's bed. I stood beside the frame, letting my fingertips trail lightly over the blanket and the rumpled sheets. I smiled. Katie was always so neat and clean. I'd never have thought that, like her brother, she didn't make her bed in the morning. Maybe Katie was more like me than I'd supposed, I thought. After all, we both had the same parents. Maybe she'd thought the same thoughts about me as I'd entertained about her. Maybe she'd imagined me naked, as I'd imagined her naked. Maybe she'd opened her legs to me, accepting the offer of my erection as I'd lain between her parted thighs and thrust my member into her moist, soft center. Maybe, I thought, but probably not.



I was pressing my luck, I told myself. I was being foolish.



I decided to return to my own room, close and lock the connecting door, and return the key to my pocket before Mom or Dad--or Katie herself--caught me snooping around in my sister's room.



Before I did, though, on an impulse, I entered my sister's walk-in closet. It was stuffed with clothes and shoes. There was something else in the closet, too, against the back wall, about three feet from the carpeted floor, above a small pillow that seemed to have been placed there on purpose, as a cushion upon which to kneel. An eyehole. Kneeling on the pillow--it had been the presence of the pillow, out of place as it was, that had alerted me to the presence of the hole in the wall above it--I placed my eye to the hole and was shocked to find myself gazing into my own room. I was looking directly into my own bed. Last night, I'd heard Katie shuffling around in her closet, but I'd thought nothing of it. Probably, I'd told myself, she was picking out the outfit that she'd wear to school or work the next day or she was trying to find the one pair of shoes among the fifty that she owned that would perfectly complement some skirt or pair of slacks. Now that I'd seen the peephole, however, another possibility--a much less innocent and far more exciting possibility--presented itself. Maybe my not-so-innocent sister had been spying on me!



I gulped, feeling the blood rise in my face as I blushed. If she had been spying on me, she'd have seen quite an eyeful, I thought, for, last night, as I'd lain in bed naked, thinking that my sister might be lying in bed naked in the adjoining room, I'd masturbated. Had she seen my cock standing upright, stiff and swollen, against my belly as, with my fist tightly closed around the thick shaft of my prick, I'd pumped the tight skin up and down, faster and harder, on the straining shaft until, at last, my semen had erupted, spewing all over my chest, belly, and pubes? As hard as it was for me to accept, this seemed a likely scenario. If Chad were right about girls (which was doubtful), they were all exhibitionists.



It seemed likely that Katie was also a voyeur.



I rose, exiting the closet, and returned to my room. I closed and locked the door, slipping the key into my pocket, and smiled.



If Katie liked to watch, I thought, I'd give her something she'd enjoy seeing.



I gathered a couple of textbooks, a notebook, and a pen, and went downstairs, pretending to study. Actually, I just wanted to be downstairs when Katie got home from her shift at Food Fest. I figured she'd want to go straight upstairs, take a hot shower, and recuperate from a long, hard day at work.

<hr pg="2" />She got home a little after 10:00, and, just as I'd anticipated, after nodding hello to me, she climbed the stairs and, a few minutes later, I heard the water running in the bathroom as she showered.



On the way upstairs to my room, I checked on Mom and Dad. Predictably, they were ensconced on the living sofa, like good couch potatoes, watching some terrible Bette Davis movie on a classic movies channel.



"Good movie?" I asked.



"Great," Mom declared.



"They don't make them like this anymore," Dad asserted. "I don't know how you kids can watch the junk they put on TV nowadays."



"Is it going to be on much longer?" I asked.



My parents gave each other a quizzical look. Why did their son care about the length of their movie?



Hastily, I added, "Maybe I'll watch the rest of it with you."



"It's just starting," Dad informed me.



"Oh. In that case, I think I'll go to bed." With sis, I hope.



"Good night," Mom and Dad called.



"Good night," I answered, hoping that it would be.



In my room, I closed the door and stripped out of my clothes. Then, I positioned myself on my bed, lying on my left side so that my front faced the peephole in the back of Katie's closet. I toyed with my cock and balls, thinking about my sister, while she finished her shower. By the time I heard the water stop, my prick was fully erect and my balls were high inside my tightened scrotum. I'd turned out the lights in my room, so I could see--now that I knew where to look--the tiny pinpoint of light that shone from my sister's room, through the peephole, into my own. A few minutes later, the pinpoint of light vanished, and I knew that my sister had entered her closet and was kneeling on the pillow, because, as she'd knelt in place, her head had blocked the light.



I masturbated, thinking of Katie kneeling in the room next door, watching me as I pumped my fist up and down upon the shaft of my thick, hard cock. For her benefit, I writhed and moaned softly, gritting my teeth and tensing the muscles in my thighs. My hand moved faster. In my mind, I saw Katie kneeling on her pillow, but her face was not pressed to her closet wall; it was pressed into my groin, and her mouth was open around my cock. Her head bobbed up and down as she pushed and pulled her rounded lips back and forth along the shaft of my straining member. I thrashed about on my mattress, my thighs scissoring and my arms tensing. I knew that Katie was staring intently into my bedroom, probably masturbating herself as she watched my every move, expecting me, at any moment, to spurt my semen across my chest and belly. Maybe she was pretending that I was about to discharge my sperm over her tits and cunt. I rolled back and forth, from side to side. In the process, I grabbed the poster-size message I'd written upon my return to my room a few minutes ago, while Katie was still showering, and held it up for her to read through her spy hole:



"I know you are watching me!"



Then, dropping the sign, I surrendered to the climax that swept through me, and my semen spewed from my convulsing cock, sending thick, white streamers into the air. More and more ribbons of sperm unfurled themselves, splattering upon my chest and belly and groin. If she were still kneeling on the cushion in her closet, her eye to her peephole, my sister was getting quite an eyeful, I thought. It was absolutely silent in her room.



I climbed out of bed, my syrup-thick semen meandering slowly down my abdomen and thighs, and eased open the door that I'd unlocked after making my poster. It swung slowly, soundlessly open, and Katie stood on the other side, as naked as I was--and smiling.



She opened her arms to me, and I stepped into her embrace. She kissed me, and I kissed her back, my hands cupping her sleek, soft buttocks. Between us, my cock began to rise, stiffening and swelling with my desire for my sister.



"How did you know I was watching you?" she asked.



I explained to her about the key and how I'd used a copy of it to let myself into her room, finding her peephole.



"How long have you been watching me?" I asked her.



Katie blushed. "A week."



"What made you want to see me naked?"



"Every girl wants to see her brother naked," she confided, "just as every boy wants to see his sister without any clothes on."



"They do?"



"Didn't you?"



I didn't have to think about her question. "Yes."



"I've also thought about what it would be like to--" she stopped in mid-sentence.



"To what?" I prompted her.



"To make love to you," she finished. Her face was red with embarrassment. "Have you ever wondered the same," she asked, "about me?"



"Every guy wants to fuck his sister," I admitted.



"What are Mom and Dad doing?" Katie asked.



I told her: "Watching a Bette Davis flick. They said it was just starting about fifteen minutes ago."



She kissed me again. "Then we have plenty of time. They never get off the sofa until the movie's over when they're watching a classic like that."



"Thank God for Bette Davis," I quipped.



Katie chuckled as, taking my hand in hers, she led me to her bed.



"Wait."



Katie looked puzzled.



I crossed the room and locked the door between our bedrooms. "Just in case," I explained. "If Mom or Dad do come up, I'll jump under the bed or in the closet, and they'll think I've gone out."



"Thank goodness the stairs creak," Katie said, "but if they think you've slipped out of the house, you'll be in big trouble."



I grinned. "Not nearly as much trouble as if they think I've been in bed with my sister."



She returned my grin, and I climbed into bed with her. Turning onto my side, I studied her nakedness. My sister, at nineteen, was far more beautiful than any girl at my high school, including Laurie Beaker, who was herself quite a hottie. Katie's breasts were high, full, and round, the nipples the size of pencil erasers, and the areolas smooth and pink as rose petals. Her tummy was concave, and the hollow of her tiny belly button was like a dimple. Her hips were boyish, but curvy, and her downy blonde pubes were trim and fuzzy, inviting caresses. Her legs were long and shapely, and her nicely rounded buttocks, which she revealed to me so that I could appreciate the "complete package," as she referred to her naked body, were creamy and smooth.



"You're beautiful, sis," I said.



She looked at my body and smiled. "You, too."



I raised an eyebrow. "Me? Beautiful?"



She smiled. "In a manly way."



I kissed her, feeling her soft, full lips against mine, and slipped my tongue into her mouth. My hand swept the curves of her flank, found a breast, and cupped the sleek, soft orb. Her nipple was firm, and I rubbed my thumb back and forth across its stiffness. Katie's hand closed upon my erection, and her fist squeezed its rigid shaft several times in rapid succession. Our mouths separated, trailing saliva.



"Fuck me, Tommy," Katie said. Her voice was soft, but hoarse with need.



I rolled on top of her, my closed thighs rotating between her open ones, and her hand reached between our groins, found my prick, and introduced it to her moist labia. My shaft rode along the wet cleavage between her pussy lips, and she tucked my questing member between them; I felt my column of flesh penetrate her, and my cock swept past the petal-soft tissues of her vagina, filling her.



I lifted my ass, feeling the buttocks relax, and my cock slid backward. I slammed my hips home, my ass cheeks tightening, and my cock rammed into her sopping tunnel of flesh. Again and again, with greater speed and urgency, with mounting intensity and passion, I drove my prick back and forth within my sister's pussy. She gasped and moaned, writhing under me as I continued to assault her with my rigid manhood, fucking her hard and fast, as if she were a whore rather than my beloved sister.



I felt the telltale tide of orgasm sweep through me, and I shoved my cock as far into my sister's cunt as it would go, grimacing as the explosions of passion rocked my soul.



"Pull out!' Katie cried. "I want your seed on my tits and belly, on my cunt and thighs."



I complied with my sister's wishes, and my semen unfurled against her breasts, belly, pubes, and labia, decorating her as if my semen were melted pearls unloosed upon her heaving frame.



Spent and exhausted, I let my body descend upon my sister's, resting my weight against her soft bosom and the rounded cradle of her sleek, wet hips. My breath came in quick gasps, and my heart beat fast within the cleavage between her breasts. My penis dwindled, softening and shrinking inside the liquid embrace of her cunt. I felt the slick wetness of my viscid semen between our bellies, a sexual glue that would bind us, brother and sister, long past the time of this act of love, forever cementing our lust and our passion and our need.



When I recovered my strength enough, I rolled off her, onto my back. My eyes were closed, and I was recalling the sight of my cock vanishing and reappearing to vanish again within the soft, tender folds of my sister's pink, succulent pussy when I felt her hand close about my flaccid member once again. I opened my eyes, offering her a quizzical look, and she smiled. "I want you to fuck me again," she announced, "between the tits this time."



I would if I could, I thought, even though I doubted I'd be able to get it up again or, if I could, that I'd be able to keep it up. After all, I'd masturbated last night and again tonight before ejaculating my semen onto my sister's breasts and pubes. I was pretty well drained of strength if not of sperm. However, the taboo nature of making love to my sister while our parents watched television downstairs was exciting, as were my sister's masturbatory manipulations, and, within a matter of minutes, my prick had risen again, resurrected, as if it were, and I straddled Katie, leaning forward to rest the weight of my upper body upon the outstretched palms of my hands. My stiff, hard cock pointed along the cleavage between her tits, and Katie tucked the length of my member between the silken globes of her bosom, pressing her breasts firmly against the cock that lay between them and making of her tit's a surrogate cunt.



I could look down upon Katie, seeing her hair fallen to the sides of her head, her beautiful face, and my cock between her tits. As I fucked her between her round, silken breasts, I could watch the expressions of lust and passion redden her face, tighten her facial muscles, close her eyes, knit her brow, grit her teeth, and cause her head to toss and turn upon her straining neck. She could also assist by more firmly compressing her tits against my thrusting cock or relaxing her grip upon her boobs. If I edged closer to her face, scooting my buttocks farther toward her head, she could also let my prick slide through her tits and past her full, soft lips, so that my penis could slide into and out of her mouth with my every shove and jerk.



My cock stiffened still more at the thought that I could enjoy the sentiments of my sister's passion as they displayed themselves upon her lovely countenance, even as I worked my hard member relentlessly and resolutely between the soft-firm mounds of flesh that she, with her own hands, clasped about my member.



I reared back, lifting my buttocks, and slammed my prick forward; it slid past the silken slopes of Katie's breasts as easily as if I were fucking a pair of giant roses rather than my sister's tits. There was not the least friction to retard the advance of my prick through the passageway she'd formed between her breasts, and my retreating member encountered the same lack of drag as I withdrew its length again, prior to shoving it once more through the furrow between those satiny globes.



Back and forth I moved my cock, plowing the perfectly smooth trough that my sister had formed of her compressed tits while she smiled, licked her lips, rolled her eyes, grimaced, and moaned with mounting passion.



Looking up at me with her wide, soulful eyes, she entreated, "Let me take you in my mouth, Tommy," and I slid forward, letting my thick, hard member slide through the closed valley of her cleavage so that the tops of my thighs pressed firmly into the undersides of her breasts and tip of my cock breached her tit-furrow, allowing her to access the purple, swollen glans and an inch or two of the shaft below it with her mouth. She formed an "O" of her lips, letting the tip of my manhood shove into her mouth and slide out again with each and every thrust and momentary retreat of my cock as I continued to fuck her tits as hard as fast as I could move my hips. Although, with her mouth stuffed, as were her pressed-together tits, with my cock, she could not speak, my sister yet managed to moan and groan as she squirmed beneath me, the features of her beautiful face expressing her passion. Had I not known the source of her excitement, I might have thought the building bliss to be the result of pain rather than pleasure and of anguish rather than joy, for her twisted grimaces seemed the products, at times, more of agony than ecstasy, as did her long, loud, and rather mournful moans and groans.



She released my prick from her mouth, using her tongue to wash and bathe my questing organ, a look of absolute delight radiant upon her beaming face. Had not she had my prick between her breasts and in her face, she might look like an angel, I thought, but, despite her sparkling eyes, her shining hair, and her look of maidenly innocence, she could hardly have the appearance of a messenger of God with my prick fucking her between the tits and her tongue lapping at its tip--unless, perhaps, she were a fallen angel.



Although, now that I had seemed to gain my second wind, as it were, it appeared to me that I might continue thus to fuck my sister forever, in the next instant, I was launching my semen in splattering ribbons and beads upon her face, in her hair, and against her slurping mouth and lashing tongue. A great white streamer burst against her right eye, curling over the bridge of her nose; a second volley struck her left cheek and coursed down the side of her face; a third bolt spurted against her lips, coating them with a pearly gloss. More eruptions fell upon her brow and chin and throat. She grinned, licking her lips. With her fingertips, she drew tendrils of the thick, white seed toward her semen-slick lips, ingesting all of the sperm I'd deposited upon her lovely face. Looking at me with her deep blue eyes, she smiled, showing me the opalescent liquid of my sperm within her mouth, and said, through the strands of semen that stretched between her parting lips, "Thank you for sharing yourself with your sister, Tommy dear."



Afterward, as we lie beside one another in her sperm-smeared bed, warm and cozy and wanting to be nowhere else ever again but where we were this moment, thigh against thigh, hip against hip, and ribs against ribs, with my hand upon her cunt and hers upon my cock, we enjoyed one another's company as long as we dared, fearing that the Bette Davis film must be nearing its denouement and that, as a result, Mom and Dad would be making their way upstairs before long, perhaps to enjoy themselves in the same manner as their children had. "You'll be back tomorrow night?" Katie asked.



"Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow," I assured her, "as long as we have tomorrows under the same roof."



In fact, while I waited for Katie to get off work tomorrow, I'd visit Chad, I thought. Maybe he'd tell me about seeing Laurie naked again. If he did, I wouldn't mind hearing the stories. I'd never mind listening to him flaunt his sister's nakedness again. I didn't have to, not when I had a sister like Katie.



I took another, final look at my sister, my love. She smiled, looking so beautiful that I wanted to fuck her again, here and now, in the ass, perhaps, this time, but, alas!, I was too tired to do more than merely want. Besides, the hour was late, and our parents would be coming upstairs soon. It was time I returned to my own bed.



"Tomorrow, I'll get some spackling compound and seal that hole in my closet," Katie said. "I don't need it any longer."



"Good idea," I said. I kissed her, tasting the salty nectar of my sperm upon her lips. It tasted good, I thought. "I'd better get back to my room now."



She watched me rise.



As I unlocked the door between our bedrooms, Katie called to me from her bed across the room. "Tommy?"



"Yes?"



"Take good care of that key."



"I will."



"Don't lose it."



I smiled. "Don't worry; I won't."



She smiled, too. "It's the key to my heart," she said. 

