One In The Same

By the time they were fifteen, he knew to just lay there quietly those nights, shirtless, while she jacked him off through his pajama fly and he’d lazily squeeze her buns through her pajama bottoms, and she subsequently found herself not trying to pass gas in her dumb brother’s face, now disinterested in the joke. Maggie had begun wearing a designated tee shirt as George’s drips grew to become greater geysers, leaping out at and all over her front, and in their sixteenth year, globs of her brother’s spunk were getting caught in her hair; when one night his whole load was dripping off her face and from the end of her nose, she from then on lay at his side to masturbate him. After months of this – handling him, and for the past year having watched and felt him get longer and stronger, all over and in every sense – as thick as her wrist, and wiry hair even, in places where he was once as smooth as she – and aware he had been, for more time than she was willing to admit knowing, letting her win – Maggie was frustrated with him for reasons neither of them were old enough to know anything about, and fisting her palm oily over her twin brother’s cock, teasing him for being so disproportionate (when her tits didn’t really fit on her own frame, let alone pressed under the old shirt she wore) George swirled his tongue inside Maggie’s ear, and instead of playing away from him – in the throes of ovulation, herself especially horney – she spent the first nicest five minutes of her brother’s love life bruising his lower throat with a hickey. When she wouldn’t let him sex her neck in return, for appearance’s sake, he strong-armed her around and over the bed’s edge, hooked down her pajama bottoms, and bit her caboose, her cool, sixteen-year-old’s buttermilk booty; she yelled at him, laughing, without really trying to stop him, not even when she felt his penis recklessly poking around behind her, and she let him pull her shirt up her back and over her head and off. Maggie threw the crusty shirt aside off the foot of the bed and rolled over to slap George’s face for letting him make her naked; but they instead just looked at each other for a long time after what a laugh was worth while the 10 p.m. news droned on in the background. George began kissing Maggie, a salivating series of honest passions and their first that wasn’t just a smoochy excuse to belch in the other’s face – cupping one of her bare breasts in his hand and for the first time in his life putting his tongue in her mouth as a gesture of affection rather than to bother her – and Maggie as sloppily kissed him back, their first as lovers and their eyes wide open throughout, he searching hers for permission and she, his, for signs of intent. She then quietly rolled back over with her face in the bedsheets, topless and with her pajama bottoms still bunched around her knees. George tripped out of his own pajama pants and mindlessly, too-quickly jammed his bone forward slick between Maggie’s buns and through her butt’s clenched-fist virginity. He stood from his knees to his heels, anchored inside his sister and hearing her plead with him in hushed shouts that he was in the wrong hole, it’s too big, georgie, you’re in the wrong hole, and he’d never heard her – guttural – so need him to summarily do – or stop doing – anything before with such choked urgency. Maggie clawed at the bed mattress for the first several seconds, even throwing herself deeper onto him to buck him off, before she reached back with both hands to push him out of her body. He grabbed her wrists and brought them around toward her head, only to have her cooperatively pull their hands together beneath her between her breasts as if they were in tandem prayer to ensure as well he stayed inside. He squatted flat-footed over her hips and, pile-driving his weight from his feet 45 degrees down into her, George began inexpertly cannonballing up his twin sister’s ass twice as fast as time is generally measured and Maggie barked hoarse-voice cries of shock – yelps, ‘ah-ah-ah’ – at each of his 180 or so punches up her can in only the minute and a half they fucked before he abruptly stopped deep, blew her full wet-cement molten inside her, and fell out. Maggie bolted to her feet from him, clutching at her back crack and hurrying toward the bathroom. He heard her lock the door behind her and turn the bathtub spigots on full. She didn’t reappear until after the late-movie had begun, tied into a heavy bathrobe, shielded within two pair of panties, and wearing a tampon two weeks in advance of her period, tucked-up inside her in the wrong hole.

“I bleed often enough without any help from you” she said with weepy, forced cheer, climbing back into bed with her brother as he lay huddled, bewilderedly apologizing to her, and rolling over into her embrace, he nosed open the front of her robe and suckled from her tit and she let him. Eight years would pass before either of them would again take a serious run at the other; she kept the ring on her person, but didn’t wear it anymore.

§§§

The cartoon grease had numbed her anus and Maggie didn’t know it wasn’t George’s cock again inside her until the base of the conical butt-plug popped past her rectum and her ring snapped closed over it. She couldn’t reach it and she couldn’t excrete it, her wrists comfy-cuff shackled to the footboard of her own bed one-too-many rungs apart, the easy-releases just beyond her fingertips. She gripped the wrought-iron bars, listening to her brother move around behind her. George then flicked-on the switch.

The toy rattled loud, louder, even snuffled up Maggie’s ass, than either of them thought discreet, and they both startled, laughing at the racket. George kissed the back of her neck, patted her right butt cheek, and left the room, leaving her to the device.

For the first few minutes, Maggie bumped and ground her pelvis in some rhythm of her own in lieu of music in time to the toy’s buzz in her butt; by the fourth minute she was trying to pry the footboard’s bars free of their welds and her pussy had hopelessly stained the chair’s upholstery. After the fifth minute Maggie had already cum once and was calling over her shoulder to George to fuck her ass, we’ll get me pregnant tomorrow, just buttfuck me now, georgie, fuck me, please fuck my ass georgie, she begged her brother while he waited in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer. She heard him rummage through a drawer and run the ice machine and thought she had no whiskey.

George listened to Maggie groan, wail, then outright beg him for two minutes more before he returned to her with a small bowl of shaved ice and stood behind her over the sweaty, panting neediness that used to be his sister’s willfulness. He crossed his left arm over her chest, holding her steady to him, her right breast in his cold palm, and he made clear to her what he wanted. She didn’t try to see the small oar he held in his right hand.

“You’ll suck my cock, Maggie” of course you will, love. 
“No; make me” yes, of coarse I will georgie, egging, begging him on. 

Spank; as he’d wanted and she’d expected. George had brought the paddle’s sandpaper surface down flat on Maggie’s right bun; it got her attention, stinging more so than she had thought it would, but she kissed his forearm instead of chewing off a bite.

The toy still hummed Maggie’s anus, less so however, as the batteries began to run down.

Spank, again. A pink sunburn partially eclipsing her right white moon, and the long ago love-bite grinned back at him from its center in a kind of smiley-face from their adolescence that stood out against the blush solar backdrop.

“I’ll get you pregnant, Maggie” George said, “and you’ll have our babies; but first you’ll suck my cock when I bring it to your mouth, fresh out of your ass, and you’ll swallow my cum when I spunk.”

Spank, “Say you’ll suck my cock clean, Maggie” and another spank, “…and drink my sperm.”

Three more spanks in quick succession (sharp; hot; him) and Maggie agreed to her brother’s demands, verbatim. George pressed a handful of the crushed ice to her moon glow, handling, cooling her cheek, melting the ice-shavings over her fevered buttock, and then plucked the plug from her anus and spread her buttocks; he stepped up inside her as easily as boarding an elevator, re-inserting his cock completely back up her ass and thrusting three times hard, holding the third stroke stuck far up inside her for a full minute – marinating, she knew – then another several, slower, thorough pumps, and he backed out. He unshackled her wrists and unknotted the ties at her ankles, eased Maggie off of the chair standing, and took the seat facing her; she started to re-secure herself around him to the bed rungs, but he drew her by her waist to him and kissed her womb, then tugged at her hips for her to kneel before him, freed and of her own volition, while his cock was still ripe with her lower bowels. She knelt close into his lap, sitting on her heels, her mouth hesitating at his tip, and he cradled her head in his hands, careful to not pull. She brushed his point across her lips, painting her mouth with a trace of seminal gloss and the discolored goo she knew to be the tainted white George had used to facilitate this unorthodox seasoning of her next feed, and she thought again that far better this – preferable, even righteous – than her uncles or her father had the boy and girl not stolen away one night forever, and reaching around his waist, holding on to his buttocks, Maggie then took the bulbous head and first four inches of her brother’s cock into her mouth and began sucking hard as if she intended to pull his semen directly from his testicles well in advance of his ejaculation: like trying to drink a particularly thick milkshake through a huge but peculiarly narrow straw, failing to forget that this moment’s mouthful had just moments before been parked up her shitter.

George felt his sister suck his fat cock, pulling, as if she meant to uproot him – as much vacuum as motion, using the entire inside surface of her mouth and her lips and tongue to draw strong and hard, jawing and swallowing on him with slow, untiring sucks – looking on his sister’s pretty blonde head bobbing dutifully deeper between his thighs as she became better acquainted with her brother’s big dick touching the back of her throat: servicing him, a slurping, slobbering oral wash of his penis clean of her own bowel’s residual cream-sweetened mucus, her breath steamy, sweating his stem, and her palate soft and her tongue lolling and circling, her lips pursing over him in an ever-varying embouchure – her mouth was animated around his cock with motions all its own from the bounce of her face between his legs and he looked on while she blew him and dusk devolved day into dark; seeing, feeling Maggie blow him, his sister, his twin sister, tasting his beef thick-twitching and feverish in her mouth, and inhaling through her nostrils the musk his loins generated in a fume right under her nose so pungent he was sure she was tasting that also.

George kept his hands on Maggie’s head in some form or another the entire time – stroking her scalp or cupping her face in his palms, hanging her hair behind her ears so as to better see his fuck of her sweet face – and in the last moments, when he felt his reservoirs roiling on the verge of another unique sexual reckoning with his own sister, she felt him firmly ease her head and mouthful of him back to no more than two inches – but no less; her face immobilized by him at the base of her skull and with a hard half-pound of penis throbbing in her mouth, she resisted the urge to clutch at his wrists and instead dug her nails into his ass-flesh. She rolled her eyes up to meet his and they looked into each other’s souls as his fingers tightened behind her neck and his every muscle tensed.

“Start swallowing, Maggie” panting, George gasped as his orgasm charged up his piss-stalk toward his sister’s face, and Maggie felt her brother’s cock in her mouth pulse three times in one-second intervals before – ‘uuuaahh’ she heard him heave – on the fourth it disgorged a fibrous, liquid wad of sperm – syrupy brine and pooling over her tongue, then lumpy cream-of-vinegar and filling her mouth – and she momentarily held, then swallowed, each hot glut sequentially as she was fed them – five loads in all, and a sixth shuddering squirt – struggling to taste then eat her brother’s acrid ejaculations as they threatened to either drown her or overflow from around her lips.