Strange bedfellows Real Story

Posted on March 23, 2009. Filed under: Brother and Sister | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , |

Do not repost this story or otherwise fold, spindle, or mutiliate it.
Comments to the author are most welcome. Half of this story is true exactly
as written, but it did not happen to the author.

“My most erotic sexual fantasy is about making love to my sister,” he said
quietly, right in her ear.

“Excuse me?” she asked, the champagne glass frozen halfway to her lips.

He moved closer, his breath hot against her neck. “A few days ago you asked
me about my most intense sexual fantasy. I’m sorry, I lied about the two
women thing. My hottest fantasy is about my sister.”

He looked at her face for some kind of reaction. Nothing. She rested her
glass on the edge of the balcony railing and looked out onto the long
driveway leading to the estate.

It’s finally done, he thought. Whatever happens, happens. “Let me see if I
have this straight,” she said after a moment. Her voice was low and
intense. “The other day we’re lying in bed, naked, getting ready to fuck. I
ask you what you think about when you jerk off. You tell me some lie about
having one women sit on your cock and the other straddling your face.

“Now, here we are at this major fund-raiser for your boss, you’re wearing
your best suit, I’m in a black velvet cocktail dress, hair done up, gold
earrings–there are 100 people all around us, your future is at stake–and
you’ve chosen this moment to tell me you want to make love to your SISTER?”
The word “sister” came out like a hiss.

He took a sip from his gin and tonic and glanced around to see if anyone
had been listening. Susan always got a little louder after a few drinks.
Luckily, the crowd had drifted from the third floor balcony to the spacious
living room, where Hal was scheduled to give an informal speech.

“Not exactly,” he said, swirling his glass and watching the ice bob up and
down. “Sometimes I DO think about two women. I just think about having sex
with my sister a lot more often.”

He looked up to see if she was smiling. She wasn’t. She was staring at him
in disbelief. He gulped the rest of his drink, wishing there were more.

He continued. “Susan, I’ve been trying for months to get up the courage to
tell you about what happened between my sister and I when we were kids. All
of the sudden the moment hit me. And I realized if I didn’t say something
right now, I just might never have the nerve to do it. And you deserve to
know about it before we get married.”

“Something HAPPENED between the two of you?” she asked. “You mean…this
isn’t just a fantasy?”

“Well,” he said hesitantly, “Yes, something…did….happen. The summer I
turned 14. We were alone in the house…..”

“Wait!” she interrupted, grabbing her black beaded purse from a nearby
table. “I changed my mind. I need some time to process this…I…I need to
be alone right now.” She darted into the mansion, spilling a little of her
drink and nearly tripping on her new high heeled pumps–not even
acknowledging the gray haired lady she passed on her way inside.

He groaned when he saw the lady coming toward him. Please, not Vera. Not
now.

“There you are!” said Vera as she waddled out onto the balcony, both chins
bobbing up and down. “Congratulations on your engagement! Susan looks so
lovely tonight.”

He forced a smile. “She is beautiful, Vera, thank you. And thank you too
for manning the welcome table. You know a lot of important people are going
to be here tonight.”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about!” she huffed, waving a white piece
of paper in front of his face. “Look how they misspelled Mr. Peck’s name
tag!” He glanced at the label.

MR. JOHN BECK, PRESIDENT, NATIONAL RIGHT TO LIFE

It was one of those days.

“Good catch, Vera,” he said. “You know how much money Right to Life donated
to Hal’s campaign. Why don’t you see if you can find Mr. Wirthington–Peter
should know where he is–and ask if he has any typewriter correction fluid
you can use to white out the bottom of the ‘B’ to make a ‘P.'”

“Wonderful idea,” she said, and wandered off. When Vera was gone he
crumpled into one of the wooden folding chairs and rested his head in his
hands. He sat there for several minutes, agonizing. Why hadn’t he trusted
his instincts and kept it to himself? Where did Susan go? What was going
through her mind right now? And what could he do or say now to repair the
damage?

He thought she could handle the truth. After all, they were so sexually
open with each other. They used exotic sex toys, tried different positions,
and watched pornos naked in the middle of the day with the shades pulled
down.

Susan loved to role-play when they were having sex, pretending she was in
someone else’s skin. Despite his pain he smiled, remembering the time she
played the professor and he was the eager student willing to trade sex for
a good grade. A month ago they pretended that she was auditioning for the
cheerleading squad and he was the judge. Dressed in nothing but her old
pleated skirt and knit top from high school, she stood on the kitchen
table, twirled a baton and went through a routine. He remembered the way
her skirt whirled up, revealing her creamy white thighs and smooth,
hairless pussy. God, how they had fucked that night, again and again.

So he had decided to tell her the truth. And now she would never look at
him the same way again. Maybe she wouldn’t even look at him again, period.

“Shit!” he said, enraged at the unfairness of it. He slammed his fist
against the wood railing.

“Now, I don’t think that Troy and Angela would appreciate you defacing
their property.”

Startled, he looked up to see Peter, Hal’s campaign manager, standing in
the entrance to the balcony. Great. Now he’d lose any chance at the press
secretary job, too.

“Hey kid, it’s just a fucking name tag,” said Peter, stepping outside and
lighting a cigarette. “So what are you doing here, anyway? You should be
downstairs in case any media-types show up.”

He mumbled something in response and tried to walk past Peter to get to the
living room. But the heavyset man grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey, did you see that John Potter is here, schmoozing it up?” Peter
chuckled. “It’s strange to see him here after he and Hal sparred so
publicly on that stadium tax plan. But I guess politics does make strange
bedfellows.” He ground his cigarette into the balcony floor.

“Yeah, Pete, I guess so.” He went inside and made his way through the
ornate hallways of the mansion to the grand staircase. He stopped at a
spacious landing halfway down and scanned the crowd of well-dressed
partygoers for Susan.

“Which sister was it, Laura or Stephanie?”

He spun around. Susan was right behind him on the landing, her bright red
lipstick freshly applied. She was wavering slightly; was it from the
champagne or his news?

“Laura,” he said. “Of course it was Laura. When I was 14, Stephanie was
only 11!”

She looked relieved. “Thank God,” she said, proceeding on down the stairs.
He grabbed her shoulder, turned her around and gazed into her face from the
stair above.

“Susan…” he said, holding her shoulders tightly. “Did I screw everything
up? Please tell me this doesn’t make any difference and that you’re still
going to marry me.”

She looked down for a moment, avoiding his eyes. “Of course I’m going to
marry you. It’s all right. It’s just a surprise…I didn’t know…..I….”
She stopped and looked up at him, her brown eyes flashing. “I’ve seen the
two of you together a couple of times and I had no idea. I don’t
understand.”

“Laura won’t talk about it. She just laughs and makes some comment about
the crazy things we did when we were kids.”

“Then…are you still attracted to her?” she asked, looking directly into
his eyes. “Are you saying you fantasize about her now, or you did when you
were a teenager?”

He paused. He couldn’t risk telling her the truth. “It’s…in the past.”

She took his hands. “Tell me what happened, then. I need to know.”

“You want me to tell you now? Right here?” he asked, feeling guilty and
confused. Twenty minutes ago she said didn’t want to talk about it.

“Right here, right now,” she said. “Besides, no one can hear us.”

He looked around. She was right. They were alone on the stairs. Her back
was to the crowd and he could talk to her, watch for any media and appear
to listen to the speech at the same time. He didn’t really need to hear the
speech–after all, he had written it.

“All right, I’ll tell you.” He lowered his voice. “I was 14 and she was 16,
and our parents were at work all day. Stephanie was at camp, I think. One
day Laura and I were having an argument and I was angry and I mooned her.
She just laughed like it was a big joke.”

Susan nodded. Encouraged, he continued.

“And…well…mooning her turned me on. So I did it a couple of other times
that week, each time leaving my pants down a little longer. Sometimes she
would come up behind me and, as a joke, pull my pants down in back. Then
she started to moon me back, too.”

“I bet seeing her ass got you very hard.” Susan said. It was a statement,
not a question.

She knew him well. “Yeah. Sometimes afterwards I went into the bathroom to
jerk off, I was so turned on. While I was doing it I fantasized about
showing her my cock.” He looked down at Susan on the step below him, his
eyes drifting from her face to her breasts. They were pushed up and very
conspicuous in that low-cut cocktail dress. He rubbed her palms with his
thumbs, gentle little circles.

“Finally I just had to flash her, I was so turned on. I pulled down my
pants in front of her–just for an instant–showing her my hard dick. She
was shocked at first, but then she laughed. So the next day I did it again,
but kept my pants down for a lot longer.”

Suddenly a voice interrupted them. It was Peter.

“Thank you all so much for coming here this evening, and a special thanks
to Troy and Angela Wirthington, our hosts for this evening,” he said. “You
know, a few years ago our party did a lot of talking about ‘family values.’
And then in the rush to appease the moderates, we seemed to forget where we
stood on vital issues. School prayer. Abortion. School choice. The death
penalty. But one man didn’t forget his principles. He didn’t forget–and he
didn’t let anyone else forget either. May I introduce Hal Schmidt, our next
state senator!”

They joined in the applause from the stairway. Before it died down, he
grabbed Susan’s hand and guided her to the top of the landing. It was
quieter and more private, but he could still hear what was going on. She
was taking this better than he had hoped.

“All right…you were showing Laura your erect penis,” she prompted. “Then
what happened?”

They were standing in a dark corner in the second floor hallway, Susan’s
back to the wall. He looked around. They were alone.

He paused, recalling the chain of events. “A few days later something
happened that really changed things. I was in my pajama bottoms, lying on
the floor and watching TV. She was in her PJs too. I wasn’t paying
attention–I didn’t even realize she was in the room–and suddenly she was
in front of me blocking the TV and tugging like hell on the end of my
pajama bottoms, near the feet. She pulls them off and starts running away
with them, and I follow her, naked now, and she’s gone to our parents’ room
and I catch her and grab HER pajama bottoms and pull them off. She’s
rolling around the king-sized bed, laughing, her hair flying all over the
place, and I’m stronger than she is so I rip off her top too, buttons are
flying all over the place, and we start wrestling on the bed trying to pin
each other down. And we’re nude. And I’m as hard as hell.”

The image came to him again, the one of Laura pinned down on the bed. She
was laughing, her head rolling from side to side, her shoulder-length
blonde hair in her face as she half-heartedly struggled to get away. He had
looked down at her full breasts then; they were jiggling up and down, her
nipples pink and erect. His cock was brushing against her stomach and he
could see from the excitement in her eyes that she was as turned on as he
was.

“Then what happened? Did you…stay on the bed?” Susan said, interrupting
his reverie. He looked up and realized he was leaning against the wall.
Susan was almost pressing against him. The memory of his nude sister, an
image he must have invoked for for hundreds of masturbation sessions, was
having its usual effect on his cock. Applause and laughter drifted up the
stairs.

“No, we got up,” he said. “But we had definitely crossed some kind of line.
We hung around together for the next few hours, naked. The next day I got
out of bed, without any clothes, and I went in her room to wake her up. She
was already out of bed and walking around the room nude. From that day on
we just hung out together, naked, eating cereal, doing laundry or doing
whatever until she had to go to work in the early afternoon.”

“You were erect?” she asked, bending down to pick an imaginary piece of
lint off his knee.

“Practically the whole time,” he answered, watching her closely. She had to
know that in that position her breasts were totally visible. He watched
them sway back and forth in her strapless pushup bra and resisted the urge
to cup them in his hand. After flicking off the lint, Susan began playing
with the buttons of his $75 shirt and running her fingers across his chest.
Was this the same Susan who ran away from him on the balcony? He didn’t
understand what was going on, but he wasn’t going to ruin anything by
asking questions.

“It’s hard to explain, but we played things out on two levels,” he said,
praying that no one would come up the stairs. “On one level it was
innocent, teasing, fun stuff. Either of us could have backed out at any
time saying it was just a joke. But on a second level it was obviously very
sexual.”

“Did you ever see Laura’s pussy? Not just her pubic hair, but her slit?”
Susan asked, running a finger along the top of his belt. His balls and
stomach were tight and his cock was rock hard now, pressing uncomfortably
against his briefs. He glanced around and adjusted himself. Susan seemed to
pretend not to notice.

“Yes, several times,” he said huskily. He had to stop this. Someone could
come up at any minute. He strained to hear the speech so he could see how
much more time alone they had. But all he could make out were a couple of
phrases, “tax and spend” and “lazy welfare mothers.” Where had he put the
anti-Democrat section?

“The first time I saw her cunt we were watching TV. Laura was lying on her
back with her knees up and I was by her feet to the side, kind of at a
right angle. She couldn’t see exactly where I was looking, but I think she
knew she was giving me a show.”

“What did you think of the way it looked?” Susan asked, running her fingers
up and down his thigh, inches from his swollen cock. He reached out and
touched the bare tops of her breasts.

“It looked like the prettiest flower you ever saw–just like yours,” he
said, running his fingers over her nipples and feeling them harden. She
began running her thumb and two fingers up and down the length of his rigid
cock. He moaned softly.

“I bet you couldn’t wait til she went to work so you could jerk off,” she
whispered, nibbling on his earlobe and rubbing the back of his neck with
her other hand.

“I couldn’t wait that long, my balls hurt too much,” he said, feeling
himself begin to throb. “I’d jerk off in the bathroom while she was
dressing for work. She knew what I was doing because afterwards I’d be
soft, and she’d tease me, saying, ‘Ooooh, and what were YOU doing little
brother?’ One day she said, ‘You don’t have to go to the bathroom to do
that, you know. We’re open about a lot of things. You can do that here.”

Susan’s eyes widened. He knew that “fuck me now” look on her face. He
glanced down and saw a small wet spot forming on his pants. He needed it
too, badly. They had to get out of there, he didn’t give a shit about
Peter. He sure couldn’t go back downstairs.

Suddenly she took his hand. “Follow me,” she ordered, leading him to a
closed door off the hallway. “I saw this room earlier, it’s perfect.” She
led him in and closed the door.

It seemed to be a small guest bedroom. It was decorated with rattan
baskets, hand woven rugs and colorful pottery Angela must have picked up on
one of her jaunts to South America. The walk-in closet was open and woolen
winter clothes were piled high on the double bed. The room smelled slightly
of mothballs and dried flowers.

Susan led him to the far side of the bed away from the door. “No one will
see us here,” she said, kneeling on the floor and slipping down the straps
of her dress. God, what a wife he had chosen.

“Tell me,” she said, taking off her bra, revealing her firm breasts and
erect nipples. He leaned over and began sucking on them, but she pushed his
mouth away. “No, tell me what happened next.”

He caressed her with his hands. “We sat on the opposite ends of the couch
and I started stroking my cock, using my precum for lube as I watched Laura
rub her pussy.” He pulled up Susan’s dress and fondled the crotch of her
panties. They were soaked. “I only lasted a minute before I came all over
my chest and stomach.” He put his fingers to his nose to smell her
fragrance.

“Yes. Yes. Touch me,” she moaned, pulling her panties down over her legs.
He noticed that her pantyhose weren’t the regular kind; they only went up
to her thigh. He ran his fingers between Susan’s slick pussy lips and tried
to unbutton his pants with the other hand. She reached out to help him.
“Did Laura touch you?” she asked.

“Not that time. But a couple of weeks later I finally got her to jerk me
off while she let me touch her tits. I couldn’t believe how good her hand
on my cock felt. So much better than me doing it.” He needed to be inside
her. “Susan. Get on top of me,” he said, pulling his pants and briefs down
to his knees, finally freeing his cock.

“Call me Laura,” she gasped, quickly removing her panties and lifting up
her dress. She straddled him. “Fuck me, little brother. Fuck me.” She
lowered herself onto him, rubbing the swollen head against her wet lips and
finally slipping him inside.

He struggled to hold himself back as she moved up and down on top of him.
“Laura,” he whispered, closing his eyes and visualizing his older sister’s
face, her glistening pussy lips, the way her hand had felt on his cock. “It
feels so good to fuck you…finally…”

Laura was thrusting fast now, squeezing him, the warmth and wetness of his
sister’s cunt enveloping him, forcing everything out of his mind but a
primitive need to fuck, to cum, to pump his seed into her. “Laura, Laura,
ohhhh….” he said.

“Steve…yes…fuck….me…” She whimpered. She was coming now, crying out
loud, and he finally let himself spurt into her, grunting, feeling the
sharp pain of her nails digging into her shoulder.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door. They froze. “Hello? Is anyone
in there?”

Then he heard a drunken giggle. “That’s not the bathroom, silly. They said
the end of the hall to the LEFT.” The knocking stopped. Then a faint voice.
“Well, I tell you, I heard SOMETHING.”

Silence. Susan lay quietly against him, breathing heavily, arms around his
shoulders, her face buried in his neck. His softening cock was still in
her, bathed in her juices and his own cum.

But he felt uneasy, like there was something he had forgotten that he was
supposed to remember. They lay there a moment. Then it came to him.

“Susan,” he murmured softly, looking up at the ceiling and running his
fingernails lightly up and down her back. “Why did you just call me by your
brother’s name?”

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