Matti and her brother Miki, both over 18, continue learning, feeling their way as their incestuous path continues toward Matti's goal of sex with their father
My agenda, my goals had been clear for some weeks now with Miki; with me, of course, they’d been clear for months. But I also had a timetable. In one sense it was “as soon as possible”; I wanted to ease my father’s pain and loneliness and meet his need as quickly as I could. But in another sense I had a calendar chronology; I knew my best chance in the foreseeable future with dad had a date and a particular occasion. More about that later, but for now it’s enough to know that I had about two more months until that date. Which meant I had two months to work with Miki, if ‘work’ is an appropriate de***********ion of what we were doing and intended to do. If so, it’s the best and most enjoyable work I’ve ever done.
Mom and dad, as principals in our ballet company, attended an annual conference in Los Angeles, always a two day affair which meant an overnight stay there. Miki had whispered that first evening to me “when?”, but I think he knew, as did I, that that weekend would be ‘V-Day’ for us, the night when we would give each other our virginity. That weekend was about a week and a half after our brief tryst in his bedroom, but that week and a half might have been an eternity for the agony of waiting. I, at least, had a few preparations to think about and make but for Miki I knew it was agony. I tried to ease his wait every chance we had; short, deep kisses when we were briefly alone, another tryst, this time in my bedroom, late one night, our orgasms as muffled as possible. We even, on a pretext of a shopping errand, found a new sexual frontier in our family car, Miki driving us to a relatively secluded spot on the way home so that we could kiss, touch, get each other off, and orgasm in relative privacy. He’d even learned to plan a bit, bringing a handful of tissues to contain his cum. We were careful to open the windows on the way home, by now well aware of the musky scent of sex.
My preparations? First and foremost protection; on the first chance I had I removed two of the condoms from dad’s drawer and hid them in my bedroom well beyond mom’s scrutiny, not that my careful observations of her suggested that she suspected anything. The second preparation was the dress. Sooner or later I wanted at least one evening with Miki to approximate and rehearse my actual plan with dad. That included, of course, my choice of dress. The ultimate occasion with dad that was two months away required a combination for me; I needed to present as mature, on the one hand, for the purposes of the actual event we were going to attend, but at the same time I wanted to seem, well, sexy to dad. But it was a very careful balance, and the sexy had to be very subtle, almost unintentional. That was going to be a challenge, and I needed Miki’s help and impressions with that.
And then there was makeup. With girls and women (which was I now? I hoped woman) there’s always the makeup. As with all the other girls in the corps de ballet, I had considerable experience with makeup, but it was always ‘stage makeup’ i.e. done for performances. Indeed, the ballet company had its own makeup artist, Isabel. After one practice I’d asked her to advise me on proper, non-stage, makeup. She loved her work and was only too happy to sit down with me, open her ‘magic chest’ of cosmetics, as she called it, and instruct.
“Do you know what chefs say about salt?” she asked.
“Umm, no.”
“‘If you can taste it, it’s too much’, they say.” Seeing my quizzical look she continued “your makeup should be understated. It should have its effect without folks noticing, even, that you’re wearing it.”
“Oh.”
“So bring a very, very light hand to it. It’s often a good rule that when you think you’ve applied the right amount, dial it back just a tiny bit.”
“Ok.” And with that she went through the basics; foundation, eyeliner, mascara, lipstick, and gloss. Getting into it even more enthusiastically, she stepped back, turned my face to better light, and thought for a few seconds before ***********ing the right color of lipstick for me. She then began to work her art and within 20 minutes she took my hand and led me to a mirror. I was stunned by the change, by the maturity, the years, even, that her art had added to my face while at the same time bringing out my best features.
“Your eyes,” she said, “pay particular attention to your eyes. You’ve got really lovely eyes (I’m sure I blushed at that) and if you make them up properly they’ll work wonders for you”. She couldn’t have know the wonders, in fact, that I was planning to work.
Making careful note of the basic items I’d need I thanked her and returned to the corps dressing room; thankfully all the other students by now had left, so that I took another lingering look at the wonders she had wrought and then washed my face, removing all evidence of her craft. On the way home I shopped for cosmetics; the first time in my life I’d concerned myself with them, and compiled my own little “magic chest”. Over the next few evenings, unnoticed by my family, I cloistered myself in my room, claiming I was studying and asking to be undisturbed. In fact I was studying; I was learning the art of cosmetics and makeup, carefully gauging the amount to apply, slowly learning the light hand Isabel had counseled. And I smiled as I got closer and closer to the standard her work had set for me. Finally, the Friday evening before mom and dad were to head to L.A. for the conference, I was satisfied I’d achieved her standard.
After our parents’ early departure on Saturday Miki and I began the charade of it being a normal weekend day. We made small talk, fussed around the house at the few jobs mom and dad had left us, but we both knew we were marking time. After an hour, and certain our parents wouldn’t return for some forgotten item, both of us could feel the sexual tension between us; it was as palpable as an electric field around us, almost emotionally crackling. I felt almost that Miki and I were a couple of van de graaff generators, the ones at science centers that give off sparks when you touch them. I was sure that if I touched Miki there would be sparks.
Finally, as I was washing dishes in the kitchen, I heard him, no almost felt him enter the room and quietly approach me. Then, not looking up, I felt his body pressing against mine, gently at first, and then with more insistence. I felt his hard cock pressing against me, then felt his hands slowly drift up from my hips to find and cup my breasts. It was too much. Dishes forgotten, I grasped the sink as the now familiar tremors of pleasure began to course through me, felt my body begin to shake as his hands, now more accustomed to their goal, fondled and squeezed my breasts. I felt myself getting wet and turned, wrapped my arms around him, and we kissed a long, slow, deep kiss: a lovers’ kiss. “I want to taste you,” he said, and with that took my hand and led me from the kitchen. I was surprised to realize I could actually walk as he led me.
Where? To his room? No, we quietly walked past it. To my room, I assumed, but was surprised when he led me past it. That left only one bedroom and my body shook at the prospect. And, yes, he led me into our parents’ bedroom and with another kiss gently pushed me onto their bed. I was thrilled at the taboo he’d laid upon taboo, that we were to express our forbidden love on our parents’ own bed. We kissed, touched, fondled, squeezed for some minutes, our need growing by the minute. Then he lightly pulled at my t-shirt, so that I rose slightly to allow him to remove it and to quickly unsnap my bra. I lifted myself again and quickly removed my jeans and panties, now totally naked for him. After he spent a minute or two gazing at me I unbuttoned his shirt and he quickly followed suit; within seconds we were both naked, both shaking with the familiar but still electric touch of our skin on skin.
His kisses quickly descended; first my neck and lips, then my chest and breasts, his lips trailing down to my navel as he rested there, breathing in my scent and laying his cheek for some seconds on my stomach. Rousing himself, he traveled further, his nose nuzzling the soft fur of my vagina. At this I spread my legs further to give him freer access, and he took it, pressing his lips against me, kissing my mons and then my inner thighs. Wet? Was I wet? I felt by now that I was a Niagara of vaginal juices and in the midst of my passion had one logical thought: thank god, I mused, that we’re on top of the bed, thank god I’m lying on my jeans, thank god my juices won’t stain the bed.
But that was the last logical thought my body could produce as I felt Miki’s tongue begin its exploration. Again I moved my legs farther apart, welcoming his probing, my moist, hot opening welcoming his tongue, my hands automatically finding and cupping his head, my fingers entwined in his hair, pressing him on, encouraging him, neither of us by now conscious of my moans. His tongue pressed on, tasting greedily, first soft, then hard and thrusting, first still for a second, now traveling along my labia, my body shaking with the spasms of my approaching orgasm. His tongue kept traveling along my labia, again probing, caressing, thrusting as my head now thrashed from side to side on my mother’s pillow. Finally he ended the excruciating pleasure of my waiting as his tongue found my clitoris and circled it lightly, then flicked it gently, then circled it again. “Where did he learn this, where did he…” I thought, before my thought was abruptly ended with my orgasm. “Unnngghhhh, aaahhh, unnnhhhh” were the only sounds I could make as my body bucked uncontrollably, my hands holding and pressing Miki at his task.
Finally, more spent than I’d ever been, it seemed, I released him and glanced down as he raised his face from his task, the broadest grin I’d ever seen on him. He cursorily wiped my juices from his lips and rose quickly to lie with me and just as quickly pulled me to his kiss, so that I, too, could taste myself. I confess that even after masturbating I had never tasted myself and was curious as our tongues once again danced together, my juices still with his. Finally we fell back to rest briefly, then entered into a quiet cuddle, processing what we had just done. And, as I lay with him, knowing what I wanted now to do.
And it was easier, far easier than I had imagined, as I finally rose slightly, gently pushed Miki onto his back, and began my journey along his body, mimicking the one he had just done on mine. I slowly traced my descent with kisses, occasionally licking his skin, tasking its saltiness, my anticipation growing. As I nuzzled and kissed his navel my hand preceded my lips, finding his cock, cupping his testicles, assuring myself that he was ready for me. And ready he was; he’d been ready since the kitchen.
I knew this was something that this first time I shouldn’t allow myself to think about, to ponder, to decide. Kneeling between his spread legs I quickly bobbed down and took his glans into my mouth, tasting for the first time his pre-cum, my tongue flicking across his opening, probing lightly. I let his cock leave my mouth, smiling at the slurping sound it made as I lightly stroked him. My lips ventured down leaving little kisses the length of his rigid cock, harder now than I’d ever felt it, my fingers now toying with his balls, cupping his scrotum gently, rolling them slowly, his moans mingling with my quiet laughter as I manipulated my brother’s balls.
I returned to the task, taking his glans again into my mouth, now sucking gently and circling it with my tongue as his body began to erupt with shaking spasms. Emboldened and, actually surprising myself with the enjoyment I felt, I pushed my head down, tightening my lips around his stiff cock, my tongue adding as much moisture as it could, aiding my lips in their work. Lips drawn tightly over my teeth, they now worked together with my tongue, gliding up and down Miki, now dimly conscious of his hands pressing my farther down his cock until I’d taken as much of him into my mouth as I could, then sliding back up only to press down again as quickly as I could. “He’s fucking my mouth,” I thought, well into my task.
“Oh god, Mats, oh god…you’re fantastic…I…oh god…UNNNHHHH” was the best he could do until with no warning he thrust his hips into the air, lifting both of us from our parents’ bed. And jet after jet of his cum shot into my mouth and I began reflexively swallowing, all decision-making at that point impossible. Even as I swallowed my brother’s cum I thrilled at my lips’ feeling the spasms of his orgasm, feeling their rhythm, their pulsing power as his cum filled my mouth with its tangy salty taste. In the end it was too much and we both laughed as the cum that I couldn’t swallow dripped from my mouth onto his stomach. I wiped what remained on my lips with my hand, then added it to what was on his stomach, slowly spreading and rubbing it, feeling its growing stickiness and laughing with the incestuous discovery we’d made together.
I grabbed my t-shirt and quickly cleaned most of the cum from my face, from his stomach and checked to be sure none had stained our parents’ bed. Then we returned to our quiet embrace. “That was amazing, all of it,” I said. “I’ve thought about how to do this for so long that it amazes me how natural that all seemed. I’d always wondered: will I spit or swallow? And you’ve helped me answer the question, Miki.”
At that he smiled his broad grin again and replied “anything to help, sis, anything to help. What now? We’ve got the whole weekend.” But try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad hint from his voice.
“Shopping.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me, we’re going shopping. I need your advice.”
“On what?”
“You’ll see.” And with that I rose, gathered my clothes, and headed to the shower.