Forbidden Family Fantasy: A Brothers Desperate Craving for His Sister
Peter pulled off his tie and jacket and threw them on the chair. He was
disgusted with everything. His dream girl, his "Marsha," had hardly said two
words to him since their arrival. And tonight, she never danced with him, not
even once. He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it after the others.
Rationally, he knew his anger was directed more at himself than at Marsha. His
entire fantasy was a pipe-dream and he should have recognized it as such. You
just don't go around asking your sister to fuck, he thought. He had been a fool,
and he didn't like feeling foolish.
Fortunately, he thought, aunt Mary had come to his rescue. She's really
something, he mused. Who would have thought the old girl was so wild? Then he
remembered that his aunt was only in her early forties. Not really such an old
girl, he thought. Hell, Lucy Parsons' older and she's a fine piece of ass!
Now I'm thinking about banging my own aunt! The irony of the situation made him
chuckle. Dear aunt Mary had given him a hard-on more than once tonight, but the
one he really wanted to fuck didn't even say 'goodnight.' He shook his head and
opened the bathroom door.
Startled, Marsha jerked her head up and looked directly into Peter's eyes.
Without conscious thought, she dropped the towel she was holding. She was naked
from the waist up. Her bare tits stood out proudly; the nipples, big and rosy.
For a lifetime she held her breath as her mind tried to force her mouth to
speak. Nothing came out.
Peter stood transfixed. His face flushed as his eyes roamed his sister's
beautiful body; his mind registering every contour and curve. His stomach
tightening and he felt a sharp pain in his nuts as if they were caught in a
vise. Sheepishly, he mumbled, "Excuse me" and closed the door. The pain in his
balls, like his frustration, intensified.
Fucking blue-balls! Angrily, he stripped, pulled on his swimtrunks and headed
for the pool.
Marsha stared blankly at the closed door. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt
constricted; shivers ran up her spine and goosebumps rose on her flesh. Her cunt
was dewy. Fool! Fool, she thought, but as her mind screamed she wasn't sure who
she was accusing. Herself or Peter? She threw the towel down and went into her
room. The empty bed seemed to smirk at her. There would be no sleeping tonight,
she realized sadly. Then she stripped, put on a robe and went downstairs.
**********************************
Peter stood in the shallow end of the S-shaped pool; THE END
disgusted with everything. His dream girl, his "Marsha," had hardly said two
words to him since their arrival. And tonight, she never danced with him, not
even once. He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it after the others.
Rationally, he knew his anger was directed more at himself than at Marsha. His
entire fantasy was a pipe-dream and he should have recognized it as such. You
just don't go around asking your sister to fuck, he thought. He had been a fool,
and he didn't like feeling foolish.
Fortunately, he thought, aunt Mary had come to his rescue. She's really
something, he mused. Who would have thought the old girl was so wild? Then he
remembered that his aunt was only in her early forties. Not really such an old
girl, he thought. Hell, Lucy Parsons' older and she's a fine piece of ass!
Now I'm thinking about banging my own aunt! The irony of the situation made him
chuckle. Dear aunt Mary had given him a hard-on more than once tonight, but the
one he really wanted to fuck didn't even say 'goodnight.' He shook his head and
opened the bathroom door.
Startled, Marsha jerked her head up and looked directly into Peter's eyes.
Without conscious thought, she dropped the towel she was holding. She was naked
from the waist up. Her bare tits stood out proudly; the nipples, big and rosy.
For a lifetime she held her breath as her mind tried to force her mouth to
speak. Nothing came out.
Peter stood transfixed. His face flushed as his eyes roamed his sister's
beautiful body; his mind registering every contour and curve. His stomach
tightening and he felt a sharp pain in his nuts as if they were caught in a
vise. Sheepishly, he mumbled, "Excuse me" and closed the door. The pain in his
balls, like his frustration, intensified.
Fucking blue-balls! Angrily, he stripped, pulled on his swimtrunks and headed
for the pool.
Marsha stared blankly at the closed door. Her mouth was dry and her throat felt
constricted; shivers ran up her spine and goosebumps rose on her flesh. Her cunt
was dewy. Fool! Fool, she thought, but as her mind screamed she wasn't sure who
she was accusing. Herself or Peter? She threw the towel down and went into her
room. The empty bed seemed to smirk at her. There would be no sleeping tonight,
she realized sadly. Then she stripped, put on a robe and went downstairs.
**********************************
Peter stood in the shallow end of the S-shaped pool; THE END
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