One In The Same

She milked his softening erection afterward for another while longer – hungrily, not unlike how he’d nursed from her breasts after their disastrous first fuck years ago – taking larger and larger mouthfuls of his penis as it went flaccid until she could roll it around whole in one fat mouthful.

Maggie then leapt into George’s lap, and holding him by the base of his skull, locking her mouth against his, she jammed her tongue between his lips into his mouth and forced him to taste with her his sperm and the latent dirt of her lower intestine.

“I want to watch you… I want to see you do yourself” he confessed, their meld still fresh on his breath.

Maggie danced off his lap and into bed, plopping spread-eagled onto pillows and bedsprings, and awaited her audience of one as he was seated, away, at a distance by the footboard. 

“Oooo, baby” she began, stoking her pussy and wetting her lips, showing-off, “ – ooo-yeah, Georgie, I love you spunking your cum hot & salty in my mouth, sticky and – “.

“Shhh” George smiled, “Just touch yourself, and watch me watch you” he said,

the stimuli arcing as electric ticks and twitches disbursed from her pussy to her face and between her silky jumping inner thighs, half bicycling her legs parted akimbo as if to run to or escape her own hand, in full view of her brother looking in on this party with herself that no one should be privy to – when we cause ourselves revealing noises and motions no one should hear or witness, involuntary bodily occurrences and their accompanying sounds and smells, however necessary, let alone happily, pleasurably indulgent – and sinking into self-consciousness as her fingers sank through her vulva, shy at what was happening to her while she was doing herself, she looked away, closing her thighs tight over her fingers, unable to continue watching George watch her while his cock just there lay there, sated and sleepy.

She looked up again at him when he put his hand to her knee, sitting at her feet, and she rested her hand on his shoulder – he holding her open while she held on, leaning into him, steadied but squirming, inclined to double-over or thrash-about – hide or perform – but not to be just…observed… and her leg parted aside he kissed her mouth, her lips slack, she kissing back as if an afterthought, moving her lips as some read to themselves, while she busied with this new humility, this vulnerable excess.

Her body was a live collage, her nipples candied stones atop cinnamon wafers; her pubic hair trimmed short and sculpted, a mousy off-blond doormat welcoming his face for a visit; drumming at her clitoris, her eyes inky, dilating black, and her smile lost as her concentration narrowed. 

George laid her back against the headboard and she drew her heels up to near her butt, her brother’s face descending between her legs, and she wished wrong could never be so tortuously right.

George licked Maggie, legato, match-strike spikes and surges of almost-fire desire at her clitoris. Her bun smarted and her anus complained still of last night’s pummeling, but her pussy got the apology and she let him atone; nothing’d be exacted of her for the rest of the evening, she knew, but to lay back and enjoy for as long as his mouth worked or she fell asleep, one. Her brother’s lips and kisses swam her surface every few minutes round-trip from her crotch across her abdomen undulating to her breasts, tip-nipple pebbled areolae, detouring to lift her arms in turn and suck her armpits, drinking in all her smells this evening; licking her neck, ears, and kissing her mouth, his cock dragging heavily between her legs and over her belly like a wet mop, then the return round-trip direct to her vulva and the knob of her clitoris.

She watched her brother’s blond scalp nod and turn within the peace-V her thighs made, finding that she wanted to as selfishly pump him full of her as he’d been lately filling her body, and she laced her fingers behind his head, rough-riding him as marvelously hard as he’d been on her ass the other night.

“oooo, your spunk’s so good – hot down my throat, and up my butt, georgie.”
eat my pussy, georgie, fuck me with your mouth, tongue my twat”, etc…

When it was time, she pulled hard his nose and mouth inside her and tightened her thighs around his head – her brother smothered in cunt, hers – and she felt her groin go off – rack-rack, shudder – like a pillow-fight burst of down.

§§§

But morning for them arrived an hour before sunrise as they wordlessly moved on each other in the dark. He had been listening to her breathing, uneven, betray her wakefulness (as it had when they were kids), and rolling her onto her back she opened her legs. He saddled between her thighs, her limbs easing around him, and posting his arms to either side of her ribs, he slowly bore into her body with the persistent momentum of a braking locomotive, feeling her hymen give way like wet kleenex, though she flinched at the four-inch mark on his way to the bottom. She had hooked her heels under his buttocks, but couldn’t place her hands, wandering the stringy, bunching muscles of his chest and upper back and arms for a hold of him – an eager apprentice unsure of how to assist – then straight-arm planted her palms to his shoulders, pinning herself under him and her breasts floating, flopping atop the lazy waves of their ride while he repeatedly nailed her pelvis to the mattress, drilling her with the unaltered up-down rigidity of an oil rig, reliably mining her well, bringing a single drop of blood to the surface.

It didn’t last long and the Earth remained on its axis, her orgasm just a quietly gratifying whoosh of comfort, as subtle as a furnace suddenly alive with warmth, and he as well came inside her as peacefully as a sigh, impregnating his sister, she conceiving.

---

At noon they were at High Mass at St. Peter’s. They’d made bad confessions and were sure the other parishioners knew. Lovers recognize other lovers, and their body language gave them away; but only God remembered them.