erotic book - Little Brother's Big Thing by Lee Schlangen

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erotic book - Little Brother's Big Thing by Lee Schlangen

Unread post by admin » 22 Feb 2016 15:03

Copyright © 1972 by Surrey House, Inc. 6314 Riverdale Street San Diego, California 92120 U.S.A.
"Living in the boarding house gave all of them more sex than they could handle. Still it was little brother's
big thing that held most of her attention ... so rigid and so near and so always ready for her hungry lips."

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Re: erotic book - Little Brother's Big Thing by Lee Schlange

Unread post by admin » 22 Feb 2016 15:03

Chapter 1
"Stupid sonofabitch! Where you get off bein' so cheeky!"
"AIN'T CHEEK! I SEEN 'IM!"
"DON'T SASS ME! GODDAMN UNGRATEFUL WHELP! YELL AT ME I'LL TAKE YOUR
HIDE OFF!"
Friday night at Ma Conner's boardinghouse. Seven of us at the table and one skulking from chair to
chair trying to get a handout without Ma seeing him. Eight, and only five were paying guests. Typical
scene, too, and my food was churning already, like it always did by the time I could get away from that
dining room.
As if it weren't bad enough to sit down to every meal with my pussy taut from wishing Eric would get
under the table with me or something! But, no; that must not have been enough. Always there had to be
the yelling and name-calling between Ma and her sister's boy, fifteen-year-old Will Dennis. She'd raised
him from the age of nine, after his mother had abandoned him to go whoring in Chicago. Ma was right;
he ought to show some respect after all she'd done for him. He didn't. He acted as if he hated her. He let
his hair grow until it hung onto his shoulders and talked radical and probably even smoked pot! And he
got mad every time she reminded him how much he owed her. So they fought at every meal, him defying
her with his snapping, black eyes and crooked teeth and weasel nose and her pushing back the coarse
hair that kept falling across her forehead and setting her jaw and shrieking.
It wasn't that I couldn't take it ... or Mark, my fourteen-year-old brother, for that matter. It was just I
was scared to death Eric would get a bellyful and tell Ma where to stick her goddamn place.
As usual, though, it was suave, dark, snake-like Duane Fowler who got pissed off, while Eric patiently
ignored the row and worked his way through his double portion of dessert.
"For Christ's sake! Sounds like an Irish fishing wharf!" Duane growled.
"Belt the little snot and be done with it!"
Ma didn't take a lot of shit off her guests and I don't think she really cared right then if Duane did leave.
She fixed him with a baleful glare and drew herself up, swelling as if she had an air pump hooked into her
boobs. "Who the hell asked you, Duane Fowler? Just because those know-nothin' owners in Kansas
City think you got the brains to run the Emporia Bowl doesn't mean you been out of diapers long enough
to tell me how to raise a kid!"
Duane snorted. "Maybe being closer to the diapers makes it easier to remember what works."
Ma sniggered behind her hand. "You're even closer to your high school pettin' days. Hear that ain't
gettin' you all you're lookin' for down at the alleys."
That hit a nerve. Duane shot a dark glance toward me and made a snarling noise in his throat. Before he
could think of a retort Ma's daughter slipped a knife into the open wound. Nancy was a
"super-sophisticated," prematurely mature kid, to judge by her opinion of herself, and she kept up on the
gossip around Emporia.
"Even with breaks," she added. And then, as if on some totally unrelated subject and with a quick
sideways glance at me, "In fact, they say there's some kind of excitement down along the river these
days. A real pusher ought to get down there."
I choked and thought about climbing over the table at her. I'd had to fight Duane off ever since he'd
come in as manager of the Emporia Bowl. And that, after I'd changed jobs to get out from under that
filthy Mr. Goldstein's thumb at the Bijou Theater. For three and a half miserable years, when I was too
young to get another job without Mr. Goldstein's recommendation, I'd submitted to all the degrading
experiences he could devise. As cashier at the Bowl, I'd thought I had it made. And then Duane had
arrived.
But I'd held him off. As stories began circulating from girls who had bought his line, I'd cringed and
firmed up my determination to stay out of his clutches. Even when he kept me late with phony recounts
at the register and nit-picking stuff about receipts, I'd held out. For the past three weeks he'd been
harassing me that way, and I still hadn't let him make any headway.
Somebody had pulled the rug out from under me, though. Somebody had started a rumor I was slipping
off to the river at quitting time and taking on whatever came along. Man or boy or boy-and-dog, the
whispers went, Lee Schlangen's taking on all comers. Down on the river bank. Duane could have shot
those rumors down with one sentence. He could have confirmed my claim he was keeping me at the
register and on the books a couple of hours every night. But all the bastard did was smile knowingly and
make a "tch-tch" noise and say he found it hard to believe Miss Schlangen would do all the terrible things
they said. In the looks he gave me, it was plain he'd put a stop to that ugly talk once I came across for
him.
But even under Nancy's dirty-minded, hurt-'em-whenever-you-get-a-chance attack, I couldn't look at
the man without chills of fear chasing themselves up and down my back. I did see Mark sort of lurch in
his chair as if he were about to bring something to Nancy's attention. So I kicked his shin good and hard
and scowled at him. We couldn't afford to run from Ma the way Eric or Duane could. Not even if Mark
had begun hearing the stories and was getting cut up by that little snot's innuendoes.
Eric looked up from his empty dessert plate with a bemused sort of expression as if he'd just gotten
there. "Hmm ... Nigg was telling me they're taking record loads of fish out of the river this month. You
might want to take a crack at them, Fowler."
Goddamn him! He was such a gentleman! He could always come up with something to take off the
pressure, and yet he wouldn't give me the time of day. Wasn't always like this! I thought. You had real
hot nuts for me when you first moved in! Wasn't until you started listening to some of those big-mouth
bastards you decided you were too good to get mixed up with a tramp like me! And most of the stories
just as big lies as the one about the river. I could have cried. Pious shit! I fumed. What makes a Dock
Superintendent on a truck freight dock so goddamn pure!
I knew, though. It wasn't being the superintendent and in line for a real promotion into the Kansas City
office. It was just what kind of man he was ... tender and thoughtful and conservative ... great, muscular,
six-foot-two body for backing up his authority ... words enough in his vocabulary so he didn't have to
use the short, ugly ones unless he wanted to. With his crewcut light brown hair and unlined face and
physique, I kept imagining he belonged in one of the pictures in that book about Greek gods Mark was
studying. And I loved him until sometimes I thought I'd die. Only he wasn't about to tangle with a
reputation like mine.
Try supporting yourself and your kid brother like me! I thought. Start out when you're about
eighteen-just barely-and he's twelve and only Ma's good word keeps them from sending each of you to
some foster home. Just try working to make up the difference between a piddling insurance check and
what it costs to live, even at Ma Conner's. Then see what kind of reputation you end up with!
I'd reached the bottom of the self-pity well. I couldn't stay in that damn dining room another minute! I
sort of stumbled to my feet and muttered an excuse and got out of there. I guess Mark was just about as
up-tight as I was, because he growled something and came after me. And of course, faithful old Gunner
gave up his attempt to wheedle a mouthful and padded after Mark.
As I went through the archway toward the stairs I heard Ma sniff.
"Hmph! A body'd think we could have one civilized meal around here. I swear, young man, I don't
know what's come over you! Mark my words, you'll get your come-uppance!"
And Will's whining, belligerent response. "Awww, ain't my fault everybody's got a wild hair!"

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Re: erotic book - Little Brother's Big Thing by Lee Schlange

Unread post by admin » 22 Feb 2016 15:04

Chapter 2
For some reason my thoughts kept swirling back to Mr. Goldstein while I climbed the stairs. God, how I
hated that man! He'd been pudgy-not really fat, just smooth and pudgy and sweaty-and he'd seemed to
me to have as many hands as an octopus. I'd been scared to death of him the first time I'd had to talk to
him. Mother and Daddy hadn't been dead longer than a month and I'd already realized the insurance
wasn't going to stretch far enough at Ma Conner's. I mean, there were two of us no matter how you
looked at it, and that meant it cost for two instead of one. She'd gone to bat for us and kept them from
splitting us up, but she did have a living to make, herself. And the people who paid her for board and
room furnished that living.
The trouble was, I actually lacked about five months of being old enough to be my own boss.
Technically, Mr. Goldstein should have gotten a court okay to put me to work. And that would have
meant somebody from Welfare snooping around his place all the time and him filling out extra forms and
all sorts of other trouble. But he did understand how desperate I was. So he hired me without going
through the formalities. They'd wink at it so long as I kept my nose clean, he assured me. It wouldn't be
fair to pay me what the other usherettes got, either, he pointed out, since they were all legal and didn't
involve him in any risk. And I could see that and accepted what he was willing to pay; at least I could
come out just about even at the end of every month.
Only keeping my nose clean really had meant doing whatever Mr. Goldstein wanted me to. I hadn't been
working more than a week before one of the patrons made a big fuss about losing his wallet. I looked
for it-he was sitting right on the aisle where I was working-and never did find it. Mr. Goldstein was
worried about that. He made me keep looking. And when everybody else had finished and gone home, I
was still looking. And Mr. Goldstein was watching me look.
So I was crawling along between two rows of seats and my miniskirt was hiking up to my ass-he insisted
on real short skirts for the good of the business-and my head ached until I was practically blind. And all
of a sudden I felt his hand on my back, sort of between my shoulder blades, and his other hand grabbed
my pussy. God! What could I do? I could yell some and struggle some more, but I didn't have room to
break away. And before I could get out more than the first couple of yells he had his hand inside my
panties and one finger lying in my slit. He was as fast as a cat, too! I didn't even know how he'd done it,
but he got astride me, his knees holding my waist and wedged between the seats and his rump over my
shoulders! And that gave him two hands to use where he wanted to.
I'd grown up in a little town about twenty miles upriver from Emporia. I knew farms and farm animals
and farm kids. There wasn't anything about sex I hadn't heard and sniggered about and gotten shivers
over. Maybe I'd even hidden behind a woodpile once in awhile. But mother and daddy had done what
they could to teach me what was "right" and what was "wrong." I could remember how daddy's belt had
stung those times when he'd found out I'd slipped a little.
So I was full of horror and panic at what Mr. Goldstein was doing. But that finger in my slit felt good!
Oh, God, so terribly good! And I couldn't get away from it! He jerked my panties off my legs and
grubbed at my pussy lips with those pudgy hands of his. He pried them apart and rubbed them between
his fingers and worked one fingertip around the quivering, raw little rim of my cunt-mouth. And all I
could do was make my hips go! I knew there was cunny-juice there; I could feel its heat as it oozed out
and the cold as it began to dry. He spread it all over me-on my pussy lips and into the crack between
my "bum-apples," as one of the boys used to call them, and right on my scared, puckered little asshole!
I can't remember everything he did that night. It all gets foggy in my mind. But I do remember the way he
wrapped his arms around me, just forward of my hips, and lifted my bottom into the air. My feet were
waving and my back felt like it would break, and everything was wide open for him! I remember how
hot and wet his mouth felt when he shoved his face into my ass crack. I remember the weird, fiery
sensation when he kissed-YES, ACTUALLY KISSED-my asshole. But the most fantastic recollection
of all is what it felt like when he started wedging the tip of his tongue into that puckered, winking little
hole. Oh, Jesus! What an unbelievable sensation! Sweet and awful ... delicious and agonizing ... so
exciting it made tears come to my eyes and so repulsive it made me want to throw up!
I didn't throw up. Not then or any time after. But I could have killed myself for some of the things I did
because he made me do them. Especially when I found out the projectionist was staying at the theater
every time Mr. Goldstein and I did. And that he was taking movies until they had hundreds of feet of me
doing all those things. It was too late to quit, then. And Mr. Goldstein started letting other men use me.
And boys!
Well, that was the one part I liked right from the start. Those sweet, cherubic, eager little boys with their
peewee-cockers that were just barely ready to turn into hard-ons and the way their little foreskins
peeled back and left them all red underneath and the way they ...
God! Anyway, Mr. Goldstein got another real young girl in there after I'd worked three and a half years
for him. And he let me quit and take the cashier's job at the Emporia Bowl. And I began to get over that
awful period.
I guess I thought mostly about those little boys while I climbed the stairs and went back to Mark's and
my apartment. I know I was thinking about them when I went inside. And I went right through my
bedroom to the sun porch Ma had enclosed and let us have for a sitting room of our own. It was dark in
there and I dropped onto the beat-up old rattan lounge and stared out the low windows at the
cottonwoods and the street lights and wondered if any of those little boys recognized me now when they
came bowling.
I was a little ashamed of myself; the crotch of my panties was wet from the goo my thoughts had
triggered. My hands shook a little, too, but that was mostly from the fury and frustration I'd felt in the
dining room.
There was a faint scuffling sound and Mark plunked down on the edge of the lounge. He leaned over me
and sort of cuddled me without saying anything, as if he were twenty-two and I were fourteen. I let
myself float in the warmth and security of his boyish embrace for awhile and then chuckled quietly.
"It's going to be okay, Markie. You know that Latin phrase you keep saying."
"Means 'Don't let the bastards get you down'?" he asked.
"That's the one. They can't get us down." To my horror, my voice cracked and I started to cry. It's that
bastard, Eric! I thought. He's the one's getting me down!
Mark just held me tighter. I felt him squashing my boobies and tried to smother the abrupt wave of
cock-hunger that washed over me. I cried harder and he squeezed harder and I had to squirm. I mean,
my hips were squirming. I was sort of curling up around him and panting through the sobs and my pussy
was burning up!
I don't know how he did it, but somehow his hand moved and brushed my bottom. It was like touching
a match to a rocket! I grabbed him and hung on. My tits rubbed on him and my knees jerked up to jam
my thighs against his buttocks and I was all over him! And his damn hand was all over! He didn't rub my
thigh with it more than a couple of strokes, probably, but while I was still twisting around, he got it onto
one of my boobs. He could have done anything, then. He was all those little boys rolled into one, and I
was going to teach my own brother how to get the most pleasure out of fucking!
He didn't fight when I scrambled around so he was lying down and I was over him. He didn't object
when I propped myself up so my boobs were right above his face, either. He simply unbuttoned my
blouse and pushed my bra up off the swaying mounds and buried his face between them. But he did jerk
pretty hard when I grabbed his hard-on through his trouser-front. That really seemed to shake him!
I didn't mind. I let him buck a little while I unzipped his fly. And when my hand had burrowed inside and
clamped onto that naked, smooth cylinder and his wiry pubic hair was pricking my hand, he was
welcome to flop around all he wanted to. He was clear gone, though. All of a sudden he wanted to do
whatever I wanted him to. He let me undress him. He lay there with his eyes big and round and his
mouth forming an "O" and let me take his pants and shorts off and held his arms right for me to get his
T-shirt off. And he lay there as if he were paralyzed, looking sort of scared ... scared of what was
happening, but more scared to move.
"I'm not going to hurt you, honey," I told him, real soft. "Don't you see? I just want you to learn.
"Yeah." He gulped.
I let my dress settle wider on my shoulders, then shrugged so it slipped away from them. I stood
perfectly still while the material sagged and wrinkled and slid down me a little at a time. It hung around
my hips, twisted and draped, and I tugged at the bra cups Mark had shoved up. My boobs filled them
again and I worked one shoulder strap real slowly off my shoulder, then the other, and pulled my arms
out of them. Mark's eyes bugged as he stared at me. "Sis? ..." His voice sounded strangled. "Sis!
You're! ..."
When he stopped and didn't say what he'd started to, I pushed my bra down to my waist. Just like that,
I pushed it down so my tits spilled into the open. Mark licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and I
turned the bra around at my waist so the catch was in front where I could unfasten it easy. And I pulled
the empty thing away from me and let it dangle from my hand, slack and flat without its stuffing of flesh. I
tossed it away, suddenly not feeling nonchalant or superior, but just as scared and unbelieving as the
scared, naked kid who lay there staring up at me.
"Oh, Jeez, sis!" he whispered, kind of hoarse-sounding. "Oh, Jeez!"
As if his awe were a spur, I stiffened and fumbled at another button on my dress. Loosened, it gave the
flimsy garment just enough freedom to start sliding again. A fraction of an inch at a time, the swell of my
hips came in view-and the broad, sweet curve of my lower belly. My panties hugged me intimately, too
thin and clinging to soften the crease at the top of my pubic hair or to hide the dark-shadowed hump
where the hair mat thrust forward on my love mound. In the rays of the rising moon-they reached in
through the windows and bathed me with their dusky radiance just like in some mythical rite-wisps of
black hair twisted around the edges of the panties and were silhouetted against the smooth whiteness of
my flesh.
The dress passed the fullness of my bottom and slid off my thighs with a rush, exposing their rounded
taper and the taut rigidity of my knees. I stepped out of the crumpled garment and began to work my
panties down.
Again, Mark made a strangled noise. His breath hissed unsteadily and he whispered. "Oh, Jeez! Oh,
Jeez, sis! I never seen ...!"
"I know, sweetie." Real soft and tender, like a mother soothing her child. "I know you never. Don't you
see, honey? It's time!" And I kept showing him more and more of that secret flesh he hadn't seen. My
pubic hair bulged out when the panties freed it, springing full and curly, and my hands shook when I
touched part of the crotch of the flimsy garment and found out how wet it really was.
After my whole pussy was uncovered and the panties were halfway down my thighs, there wasn't any
way to keep the suspense up. I bent and quickly stripped the messy things from my legs and kicked
them and the dress away. And then I stood over him, letting him get his fill of a figure as good as any in
Emporia-and better than most-while I studied that peter of his and contemplated how much a man he'd
become.
His pubic hair was still a little thin. It clustered into strands that curled in tight ringlets, clinging to the base
of the white-shafted, veined, swollen-headed cock. His balls lay half-overlapped in the hollow between
his thighs. Their bag was drawn-up and taut, goose-pimpled under the sparse hair that grew on it, and
the nuggets inside reminded me of prune-plumbs. His pecker looked like it was going to burst! It lay
stiffly on his belly, its tip almost hanging over his belly-button, the head bulging inside its stretched
foreskin, which gaped at the end as if gasping for breath.
It exercised a hypnotic charm on me, that innocent, straining young organ. I sank slowly to my knees
beside the lounge and laid a hand on his thigh, my fingertips reverently caressing the silken texture of his
scrotum while I lowered my face closer and closer to that lovely, pulsing, thick-veined rod of meat
above it. With my lips parted expectantly, I touched the softer underside of his dick with a tender kiss. I
nibbled at it for a moment while Mark jerked in a deep breath and tensed his thighs. His knees rose and
separated when I continued nibbling along the turgid stalk toward its crown, and he groaned.
"Oh, sis! Jeez, sis! ... Unnnhhh! ... Nnnggg!"
I fingered the sweet stem, the pads of my fingertips stroking along its sides while my teeth squeaked on
the twitching foreskin. He acted as if he were afraid I meant to bite the raging pecker off. Every little nip
brought a sharp flinch, his belly jerking and his cock leaping under my lips. His fists pressed tightly to his
hips, clenching and unclenching. But he couldn't fight the eagerness I was arousing in him; his knees
spread and his heels dug at the cushion while his hips started grinding.
"Uuuhhh ... nnnNNnnn! ... Oooh, sis, let me play with you, too!"
"Mmm? ... Mmm! Okay!"
I sighed. It was so comfortable and so beautiful this way, kneeling-sitting on my heels with my boobs
resting on the edge of the lounge and just touching his hot, young body while I loved his throbbing dick.
I'd have to stand, bending at the waist, if he wanted to dabble at my pussy. But I couldn't refuse his
young male need. I pushed myself up and bent over him, smiling to myself at the way my boobies coned
as they hung beneath me.
He caught at me, pulling me around toward him, and when my leg bumped the side of the lounge and
stopped me, he seized that ankle and lifted my foot, swinging my leg across his chest. I gasped at the
way my pussy had so suddenly been pulled open to his view. I struggled for a moment, but his hands
held me securely and he continued to maneuver me until I knelt astride his chest, his upper arms resting
on my calves and pinning my legs. And I stared right into the tip of his cock, shivering at the weird notion
the hooded bulb was leering back at me.
I hitched myself over him, my tits brushing his hard, flat belly, and took the young cock in both hands.
Lying on him, feeling the thickness of that boyish rib cage wedging my thighs apart and his clumsy,
trembling fingers fumbling at my pussy-lips, I lost the artistic detachment I'd felt and became suddenly the
voracious, cock-starved female. I extended my tongue and lapped at him. I scoured the skin of his
scrotum, feeling his balls slide against each other under my tongue's pressure. I straightened the crusted
hairs and stripped them of their musky coating on the surface of my tongue, letting them spring back
squeaky clean. And I laved the dear, quivering trunk of his cock, its flavor strong at first with the
remnants of sweat and seminal secretions, then clean and fresh and scented only with its own subtle
man-smell.
I paced myself. I fought off the ever-growing impulse to gobble at the waiting, bulging head of that
glorious prick. My tongue lingered over the last of its homage, caressing and teasing his drum-taut
foreskin and twirling with tantalizing persistence around the very rim of that darkly gaping opening that
would lead to his cockhead.
Mark was groaning continuously and twisting ferociously. His fingers dragged through the furry pelt that
clothed each of my pussy-lips and probed tentatively at the hairless crevice between them. But I knew
he was overwhelmingly distracted by the strange, delightful sensations in his dick. And at last my
impatience broke its bounds. My hands closed in hard rings over the broadest girth of his hooded
cockhead and started working his foreskin back. Terror threaded its way into my thought; maybe he'd
never peeled that sheath to expose the tender meat inside! Maybe it wasn't going to be elastic enough to
release that one blood-packed knob I wanted so badly to taste-to fondle-to gulp into my throat!
The edge of his hood was like a band of tough wire. It compressed the meat within as I worked it back.
Mark wailed, his voice quavering and fearful, and thrust his butt into the air in agony.
"Sis! ... YAGGHHH!... EEEIIIYE! ... OH JEEZ, SIS! ... LOVE OF GOD, DOOOONNN'T!"
I slipped the recalcitrant sheath back into place and worked it gently back and forth, testing it as it began
to stretch and loosen. Dear God! I prayed. Oh, dear God, don't let me hurt him! And don't, please
don't let it be so tight I can't get it back! Oh, please, God!
Little by little, the hard band softened and stretched. Little by little, the dark, tortured glans came into
view. And I put my mouth to it and bathed it in soothing, healing saliva and caressed the sensitized, blunt,
quivering nose with my tongue.
"MmmMMmmmMMmmm! ... AHHahhAHHH! ... Sis! ... That feels ... UNNNHHH! ... feels weird! ...
Bad and ... and goooOOOD!"
Back ... back more ... stre-e-etch ...! Now let it relax and slide forward ... and cover .... Now
push-push-push ... strip-peel-stretch-wiggle-stretch ... And relax ... and stretch ... and relax ... and
stretch ... and ... it's ... going ... going goooiiinnnggg! It was a silent chant. It was a litany of desire. It was
a prayer of lust and need and love for this innocent child who was my brother. And it was a frantic
appeal. And, Oh, dear God, there it goes!
THERE IT GOES!
Taut and shiny, a bright red where the inner surface was being exposed, the stretching, resisting,
now-tissue-thin hood slipped back until its tightest rim clamped the shoulder-ridge of his cockhead in its
embrace. Mark writhed, his fingers digging into my hot, pulsing pussy-lips with heedless force while he
tensed against the unknown.
Knowing I could win-knowing I was the boss over that mindless, stubborn piece of skin-I felt a silly rush
of triumph and a determination to flaunt my superiority. Instead of stripping it the rest of the way onto his
shaft with a quick, easy pull, I thrust it forward to cover the trembling, dewy cockhead again. Slowly,
then, the tiniest fraction of an inch at a time, I worked it back toward the flare. As it went back, I teased
and wet it with the tip of my tongue until it glistened with my saliva. I pushed it exactly to the greatest
width of his cockhead and stopped it there, licking it all the way around and nibbling at it with my lips,
massaging its drum-hard-tautness with the warm, firm softness of my mouth.
Again I worked the foreskin forward and again stripped it to its tightest position, again licking and
massaging. And again and again, while the tortured, red-streaked, shiny appearance changed to a
bruised, mottled-purple, relaxed look. When it stopped binding at the flaring, riblike shoulders, I finally
stroked it past them and smoothed the fatty flesh-rich hood along the unyielding hardness of his shaft.
And I lovingly caressed it again with my tongue and took playful bites of the inside-out foreskin with my
lips, smearing its still-relaxing undersurface with my spit and lipstick.
Mark's virgin cockhead was now mine. It quivered like firm jelly before my eyes. I held the shaft in my
hand, gripping it like I had held ice cream cones as a child, and turned it and waved it so I could study
the head. It made me think of a startled, half-frightened kid looking at me. It was hard-packed, young
flesh, raw-meat colored and a velvety texture under the wetness. The upper surface-I had to push his
cock up to a vertical position to look at that-was bulging and domed at the end. It swept around a full
curve and began to flare, swelling out to a wide, thick ridge at the rear. When I lowered his cock toward
his belly, where in its stiffness it wanted to lie, the undersurface was up where I could see it. And it was
like the whole bulging, meaty knob had been pulled together there and welded, leaving a part of the
seam open for a passage. The shoulders dipped in where they came together, and they pulled up toward
the tip a little, flattening at the end of his slit. The edges of the slit were rolled-smooth, textureless flaps,
almost, that gaped apart when I squeezed his cock and drew together when I relaxed the pressure.
A swelling drop of clear, thin liquid trembled on the slit, bridging the gap and threatening to break and
spread over the surface. And I knew it had formed after I'd finished stripping back his foreskin, because
my tongue had scoured his cockhead then. I extended my tongue to scoop up the drop. My breath was
short and my head buzzed with the excitement of the moment as I flipped the sweet fluid into my mouth
and let it spread slowly over the waiting inner membranes. The taste, flat and metallic and faintly musky,
made my mouth pucker and my tongue press against the roof of my mouth. My palate seemed to quiver
and the joints of my jaws to tighten at the taste. I swallowed reflexively and touched the edges of his slit
again. With slow, loving strokes, I lapped at the smooth-curved bulges of his cockhead and polished the
rubbery flesh.
Mark was groaning. His flat, young belly was writhing, its muscles twisting and rippling with his reaction
to the attentions I was giving his eager, twitching cockhead. His thumbs pried my swelling, sensitized
pussy-lips apart and explored their inner, fluted lobes, making my hips jerk and weave in a quick, erratic
rhythm. I put my lips to his cockhead, parting them to let part of the smooth, warm cock flesh protrude
into the domain of my tongue. And I sucked, drawing on the trembling meat as if it were the tip of a
cigarette-or as if I were giving a love bite and would afterward be able to see the splotched, bruised
surface I'd pulled the blood to.
The subtle man-taste of that spongy bulb aroused my eagerness and made my self-control crumble. I
gobbled at it, gulping it fully into my mouth and settling my lips around the throat of the shaft. The broad
dome nudged at the back of my tongue and I squeezed, shaping the pulpy mass to the contours of my
palate while I sucked hungrily. With deliberate thrusts of my head, I forced his cock back and forth in
my mouth, my lips sliding up and down the first inch of his shaft and the knobby bulb ramming from front
to back of the hot, wet cavity. I shivered with delight each time his roundness bumped into the arch of
my throat and swallowed continually as his youthful fluids seeped onto my tongue.
Mark seemed to get the idea. Groaning happily, he grabbed me, his hands closing on the fronts of my
thighs and brushing against my belly. He pulled back and down until my pussy settled over his mouth,
and his tongue began to stroke the soft, puffy bulges along the inner slopes of my parted pussy-lips. I
was giddy with delight. His caresses were jerky and uncertain, but they were enthusiastic at the same
time. Cautiously, I thrust first one leg back and then the other, moving my knees out from under me and
extending them past either side of his head. And I felt rocked by excitement at the feel of his ears and the
shorter hairs at the sides of his head where they were impressed on the sweat-moistened inner sides of
my thighs.
The only noises in that moonlit sun porch were the wet, slurping ones of greedy tonguing and sucking
and the puzzled whimpers of Mark's anxious dog, Gunner. I fondled my little brother's balls with one
hand, the swollen young eggs sliding over each other inside their crowded bag and the covering
puckered and coarse against my fingers.
And I ran my manicured nails lightly up and down the exposed part of the ribbed, pulsing, taut-skinned
cockshaft through narrow, trickling rivulets of my own escaping saliva.
His tongue explored my twat, lapping at the inflamed membranes of the inner lips and probing deeper to
the aching, juice-coated floor of my slit. I could feel my cunt-rim winking as if it were trying to trap the
passing tongue-tip and the hungry, writhing emptiness of my inner passage. My tits now flattened
beneath my weight, their pulpy, nodular tissues spreading over my brother's belly. I swayed from side to
side on their spongy cushioning and let the quick waves of pleasure wash through me. And I bobbed my
head, jacking his thick, engorged cock back and forth over the yielding surface of my tongue while I
sucked. My hips jerked fiercely as Mark forced his tongue to the rim of my cunt-mouth and twirled it on
that rubbery ring. His smooth, firm young cheeks held my pussy-lips open and worked continuously
against them in a way that kept triggering new eruptions of streaming cunt-juice at his sucking lips.
Suddenly his hands stiffened against my hips and he thrust me off his mouth, my twitching ass rising into
the air.
"Sis! Jeez, sis!" His words were thick and slurred. "C'n I fuck you now?
You gonna let me fuck you?"
I reluctantly pulled my head back to release the straining, leaping cock. "Yes." I swallowed convulsively,
the heady flavor of his sweet cockhead lingering at the back of my throat. "Yes, hon, you can fuck me.
You want to do that now?"
"Now, sis! Jeez, how much can a guy take?"
"Okay." I felt light-hearted and happy, now, my bitterness and self-pity washed away in the freshet of his
innocent lust. "Okay, sweetie. Let go of my legs."
He let me get my knees under me again and I turned around to face him, straddling his waist and raising
myself erect over him. He looked puzzled and rested his hands on the taut front muscles of my thighs, his
thumbs burying themselves in my dark pussy-hair.
"Whatchya gonna do, sis?"
I didn't say anything. I simply reached under my gulping cunt and grabbed that lovely, rigid dick of his
again and lifted it away from his belly. Raising it so it stood upright under me, I let myself down toward
it, wiggling my hips so my pussy wove back and forth as they approached the now-trembling dome. My
pussy-lips closed around the thick knob, their steaming wetness lubricating the contact and guiding the
cockhead to the throbbing, greedy rim of my cunt-mouth.
Mark's eyes widened and a grin spread slowly across his lips. "Oh! Ohhh!
I get it, sis! OOOEEE! ... This is going to feel like the greatest!"
We sort of flowed together. My cunt-mouth was hot and wet and stretchy from his sucking and his
cockhead was so very smooth and round that the rubbery rim just gobbled the heavy knob right in. The
hot, thick, soft walls of my vagina wedged apart as the inward-plowing cockhead bored its own passage
between them and reamed the tube his shaft would lie in. As my cunt-rim slid down the length of the
ribbed cylinder, I drew a deep, shaky breath and seized my own thighs.
"UNNNHHH! ... MAR-KEE!" My words came out as jerky gasps. "How's ... it ... feeeeel!"
"YNNNGGG! Shit, sis! ... W-w-warmmmm! ... AIGHHH! ... GRRREAT!"
The bristly, sparse wisps of his cock-hair jabbed into the gaping, inflamed membranes surrounding my
sinking, cunt-mouth. My hot, oozing flesh molded itself over the bulging base of his cock and the front
ridges of his thighs rose to meet my quivering, wriggling ass-cheeks.
Mark grabbed my wrists and squeezed, then lifted his hands to my swaying, full-sloped boobs and
cradled them.
"OH, FUCK! OH, FUCK! THE GREATEST, SIS! A GLOVE FOR MY PECKER! JUST LIKE A
TIGHT GLOVE FOR IT!"
I bounced a little bit and he gasped.
"Ohhh, shiiit!" he groaned. "Let me!"
He shifted his hands to my ass, raising me a couple of inches, and his hips snapped, jerking his ass off
the lounge and plunging his stiff, deep-buried cock upward through the crowding organs. Dropping
back, he thrust again and then again, each upward stroke ending when his hard cock-base slammed into
my pussy. My tits leaped like water-filled balloons and my hair bounced all over my shoulders. I leaned
forward enough to brace my hands on his belly and held my ass off him while he pounded at it with his
pumping hips. His giant cockhead churned my belly and the thick, slippery dick-shaft scrubbed in and
out through the tight-clamped rim of my cunt. I shuddered and shook my head giddily.
"MMMMM! ... YAGHHH! ... FUCK ME, SWEETIE! ... BLAST ME!"
"JEEZ, SIS! ... OOOOFFF! ... UNNNHHH! ... RIGHT UP YA!"
His blows speeded and strengthened. He hit my pussy hard enough to fling me right into the air, lifting my
knees off the lounge, and I clung to him, my fingers biting into his sides to keep me from being thrown off.
"OH, SWEETIE! OH, SWEEEEETIE!" My voice shook, half sob and half laugh.
D-D-DON'T BLAST ME LOOSE!"
"HANG ON! OH, SHIT, HANG ON, SIS!"
An enormous knot of excitement and tension was forming in the core of my belly: I knew I was going to
blow into an orgasm within seconds and I wanted to be even closer to this dear, hot-blooded baby
brother of mine. I dropped forward, my boobs squashing like pulp over his chest and my hair falling
over my shoulders onto his. Tears wet my lashes and moans of happiness bubbled from my parted,
twitching lips. I kicked back with my feet, extending my legs outside his, and let my pussy settle around
the base of his cock.
"Oh, sweeetie!" I whispered. And I yelled. "OOOHHH, HONNNEEEY! FUCK HAAARRRD! ...
HAAARD! ... I'M CUMMMIIINNNGGG! ... CUMMMIIINNNGGG!"
"YEEEAGGGHHH! ... MEEE TOOOO! ... UNNNHHH! ... NNNNN!"
"MAKE IT, MARKIE! ... OHHH, MMMAKE-IT!"
He stopped blasting and strained up under me, the base of his cock grinding my clitoris and the full,
meaty cock throbbing inside me. The knot of excitement seemed to rupture, a great tide of hot pleasure
surging over me and gut-twisting, spasmodic contractions squeezing my inner walls onto the implanted
peter. I went rigid, arching my back and surrendering to the fierce tremor that took me in its grip. My
pussy seemed to crawl on his hardness while he pulsed and jerked and his cum spurted against the
upper end of my barrel. The warm jism pooled in me and my belly seethed with its new load. My
ass-cheeks tightened and clamped together and I pushed my upper torso up with stiff arms to let my
weight ride on his spewing cock.
"AGHHH ... UMMMMM ... MMMMM ..." I twisted violently and felt the inner convulsions easing.
"Ohhh, honnneeey! ... Sooo goood! ... Markeee, baby!"
"Yummm! Sis, I never came that hard! Not ever!" He shivered and put his arms around me, crushing my
naked, slender body against the sweaty, quivering, boy-flesh. "Hot, wet, tight cunt-walls, sis! They just
milked everything I had out of me! Jeez, what a way to cum!"
In the returning awareness of my afterglow, I felt an abrupt need to make him understand. "Mark, honey
..."
"Huh?"
"Marky, don't let fucking get to be just a wild, dirty way to get kicks.
Always remember how good it can be when you feel right to start with."
"Huh! You blow your mind, sis?"
I tried desperately. "Listen, honey! Think! It's best when it means something besides just getting your
balls off! When you're as close to a woman as you can get and you've still got to get closer, then fucking
gets you closer!"
"Uh ... okay ... yeah, sis, I see what you're driving at. Okay."
I hoped he did. I lay in our sweat, sliding a little on his happily squirming belly, and made my cunt-mouth
squeeze his softened prick affectionately. He giggled and bumped my pussy with his pelvic arch and
raised his knees a little to force my thighs further apart.
And he sighed. "We sure fit together good, sis. You're nice to fuck."
By the note of contented love in his voice I knew he did understand. He might find the notion strange
and foggy, but on a gut level he did understand.
"Marky ... I love you ..."
"Aww, sis! ... Aw, I love you, too. But let's don't get all mushy.
Okay?"
"Okay." I had to laugh. "Okay, sweetie."
"Hey, sis. This isn't going to be the only time, is it? We're going to fuck lots of times, aren't we? Please?"
"Sure. Sure, we will, Marky."
"And we won't always make it something real serious, will we?"
"No. We'll make it fun."
"And play around and try stuff and things like that?"
"Sure. Sure we will."
"Mmm! Okay, sis." And he squeezed me hard.

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