He blamed his mother for introducing this bug into the family.

She seduced him once two years ago. Jamie’s mother was a voluptuous, promiscuous and playful MILF. She had an “insatiable cougar-licious appetite” according to Billy, one of his former friends.

When Jamie realized how many of his friends she had slept with, he no longer saw her as a homely mother. He stayed away from her for two years. The pandemic of 2020 brought him back home.

And she promptly seduced him again.

His sister caught them but had a curious reaction to it. Now she was infected with this incestuous bug, he feared. And they were behaving in ways inappropriate for siblings who weren’t 15th century royals.

There was one other problem.

He saw his mother by the kitchen in tight jeans and boots, looking lovely as always.

“Your dad still hasn’t called?” she said with a frown.

“Not yet,” he said, looking at the tools in his hands.

“You’re gonna fix that closet door now?” she said.

He nodded. She raised her arms. He put the tools aside, and he took her into a hug.

“Mm, my baby’s working hard…” she cooed into his ear.

Her breasts spilled onto him. He couldn’t help but slide his hands from her back to her hips and up to her chest. Her shirt wasn’t fully buttoned. He buttoned it for her. Then he squeezed her breasts.

“Don’t forget to order those channels we talked about,” she said.

“Mm,” was all he could answer when she placed her hand on his crotch and gave his coming erection a little squeeze.

“The Man of the House now…” she said.

He was about to bend down to kiss his mother.

“Taking care of his little harem,” she added.

He stopped and looked at her.

She grinned and headed towards the front door to get her coat.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I’m going out for a supply run.”

“We’ve got enough to last a month,” he said. “I made sure of that. What did you mean?”

“I still need to go out. I feel cooped up in here.”

“No unnecessary trips, mother. Shelter-in-place. But hold on.” He pointed at her. “That little remark you made...”

She put on her coat and bonnet. “While I’m out there, maybe I should get some condoms. Hmm, some KY jelly? Ooh, how about a nice silk robe for my Mr. Hugh Hefner here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m glad you and Sarah are keeping busy.” She put on a disposable face mask and her scarf.

“Mom, I, we, I don’t—”

“We’ll talk later,” she said, opening the door. “You need to relax. I’ll take care of you later, okay? If you’re not busy with Sarah…doing…chores? Bye, stud muffin.” She laughed.

He cursed as he watched her leave.

His mother knew about him and his sister, he realized.

Jamie headed downstairs where he heard Sarah’s music blasting.

He opened the door to the laundry room and stopped.

His little sister, his nineteen-year-old baby-faced sister, stood by the washing machine. She was barefoot on the dirty tiled floor. She had black leggings that hugged her calves, her thighs, and her sweet round butt, shaking and jiggling to the pop music blasting from the small speaker. Her shirt was cropped enough to reveal her lower back and a hint of pink panties. The shirt’s neck was wide enough to fall over her shoulder. And her hair was separated into two long braids with small black ribbons at the ends.

She sang and bounced while doing laundry. She was tone deaf and graceless but looked so cute and sexy to him. She stopped to sing the chorus out loud offkey, then continued dancing as she threw clothes into the washing machine.

She looked back and jumped when she spotted him.

He shuffled his feet, feeling like a creep, and pretended he was looking for something. Then he looked back at her. She started rocking her body again while staring at him with a grin. She closed the lid of the machine and bounced her body while hitting buttons. She held on to the braids and danced a little more.

She rolled her hips while turning around. He stared at her belly, with her phone tucked into the elastic band of her leggings. She pulled out the phone to turn off the music.

“Just looking for the toolbox,” he said.

She shifted nervously with an excited grin on her face.

He crept towards her.

She waited until he was upon her to try to escape, just to have him grab her in his arms and keep her in place against the rumbling washing machine.

“Jamie!” she cried out as she turned around, giving her back to him.

His hand cupped over one of her ass cheeks.

“Jamie?” she said, squirming a little. “Where’s mom?”

“She went out.” His other hand slid under her shirt, up her bare back, to her neck.

“Jamie…” she said, relaxing, lowering her body onto the machine.

He scooted up behind her, pressing his erection between her butt cheeks. She felt it and pushed her body back into him.

As the washing machine began to tremble faster, so was Jamie as he dry-humped her, breathing hard into her ear. He put one hand on her little breast under her shirt.

“Jamie,” she whispered as she snaked an arm around his head to pull him closer.

He put the other hand on her navel, into the leggings, and crawled his fingers lower and lower until…

“Jamie!” she cried out, jumping.

He raised his hands innocently. She turned her body to face him, hitting his chests with her little fists.

“You horny creep,” she said. Then she touched his face, stood up on her toes, and rewarded his naughty behavior with a kiss on the lips.

He liked this side of her. Last week, they had kissed suddenly and unexpectedly. And she had boldly begun opening her pants. They were interrupted so that moment fizzled. But it wasn’t the kiss or unzipping that had intrigued him. It was the stunning admission she made before that.

He pulled away from the kiss and held on to the machine. She stood there, caged in by his large arms, touching his chest.

“Hey, did you mean what you said last week?” he asked.

“What did I say?” she asked, looking at the ceiling while he kissed her neck.

He stared at her pink lips. “Come on.”

“It was last week. You never addressed it. I forgot. What did I say?”

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll play along. When you saw me with mom…?”

“Yuck.”

“And called us disgusting, filthy freaks…”

“I didn’t say all that!”

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, drawing her closer. “I came to you and you said…”

“What?” she said, not hugging back, arms dangling.

“That you were jealous.”

“That was your imagination.”

He looked down at her. She stared at his chest. He lifted her chin up. “Was it?”

She nodded. He lowered his body, and they kissed again. It started off slow but quickly escalated into a loud, moaning, lips-smacking, tongues-lashing kiss. His hands got adventurous again, grabbing at her breasts. She grabbed his wrists and pushed his arms out of the way. She put her hands back on his chest and slid them down to his pants.

She gasped when she felt his erection in her hands for the first time.

“You said you always had a thing for me,” he recalled.

She unbuttoned his pants and slid a hand inside.

“Oh, God,” she said.

He rubbed her shoulders while she took his cock in her hands. He played with her braids while she played with his cock.

“What the hell are we doing?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Making the most of self-quarantine?” he offered.

She chuckled. She looked at the cock and looked back up at him. “Um, should I suck it?”

He paused and then laughed a little. She laughed, too.

“I don’t know,” she whined. “Tell me what to do.”

“This isn’t your first time,” he said.

“With you, yes!”

He laughed, and she hit him.

“Stop.”

He kissed her forehead and looked at her. “You may suck it, yes,” he said.

She gave him a playful glare. Then she squatted down, leaning on the noisy washing machine. She stared at the cock for a second. She kissed the tip, as if to test the temperature. Then she licked the tip. She tasted her lips. Then she licked it again. She looked up at him.

“Is it okay?” he teased.

She nodded and then put it in her mouth.

Her sucks were hesitant at first. She was tugging down on his pants. Her face swayed from side to side as she sucked. She pulled out, looked at him, biting her lip.

“Doing great, sis,” he said.

She chuckled then got serious again as she took the cock into her mouth. This time she put her hands on his thigh and pushed her face further, taking more of him. Her sucks got louder, so did her gulps as too much saliva was coming. She wiggled her face into his cock and sucked harder, gargling a little. He put a hand on her head to slow her down.

“It’s not a contest,” he said.

She stopped and laughed at herself. She sucked slower and more passionately, licking his cock and staring up at him, smiling at her brother while he smiled back.

She ended it with a loving “Muah!” to the tip of his cock.

“That was so nice,” he said, making her grin sheepishly as she stood up. He touched her shy face and gave her a kiss.

She took a hold of his cock and started leading him to the other side of the laundry room where there was an old couch.

He used to call this room the “Tickle Torture Chamber,” where he’d bring her when she had been too annoying. He would lay her down on that old couch face down and tickle her while she screamed, laughed and begged for mercy until she agreed to be his “bitch” for the rest of the day. It was an innocent, nonsexual game between siblings. But when those torture sessions started arousing huge erections out of him, he had stopped.

For old time’s sake, he began “torturing” her again before they even made it to the couch.

She cried out, “Oh, fuck, no!” and squirmed to get away from him.

He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder with her feet kicking like he used to—except his cock was never dangling out in the open before. He laid her on her back on the couch while she protested and tried to fight him.

“Gonna be my bitch?” he teased like he used to.

He tickled her navel, her neck, her ribs, all the weak spots he remembered. She couldn’t keep up with all the places he attacked. She tried to turn around, but he rolled her back. Her legs were flailing. To hold them down he threw one leg over them and sat on them, his cock resting against her thighs.

“Okay, okay, I give, I give,” she said.

He stopped tickling her, and they stared at each other.

She lifted her body a little and let him pull the crop top over her head. She leaned back, her little breasts out there for him to view, to admire and to fondle.

He took off his shirt as well. He readjusted himself, getting on top of her on the couch.

He had snuck girls down here before, some of them her friends. But this moment beat all of them.

He stared at her cute face.

“All my friends wanted to fuck you,” she recalled suddenly.

He shook his head. “And all this time, so did you?”

She bit her lip and nodded. “That’s so, so, so wrong, isn’t it?”

He laughed a little and nodded.

“It’s the end of the world, so who cares?” she said.

He shook his head. “It’s not.” He kissed her rosy cheek. “It’s the beginning of a new one.”

They wrapped their limbs around each other and let their tongues do the talking.

He sat up. Her legs were over his shoulder. She lifted her butt for him to pull the leggings and panties from under. He peeled them off and threw them where their shirts were.

He cursed and gulped nervously. For so many years, he had kept guys away from her, “protecting her virtue” as his father had told him to do. And now here he was.

This damned pandemic, he thought, thinking he should be out anywhere, trying to score with real women, and not indulging in this forbidden fruit. No matter how delectable it looked.

He let his horny hands explore his little sister’s petite body. He touched everywhere except the special treasure between her legs. When he had touched every bit of her teenaged body, he took a deep breath.

And placed a hand on it.

She cooed.

Hairless, pink, cute, and somehow more magical than any pussy he had seen before.

He rubbed the dark lips of it. He ran circles around it. Slow and then fast.

She liked it. She moaned and grabbed her breasts.

She had her legs around his waist. She sat up on her elbows. A look of pain was on her face. He stared at her while his hands worked her into a little frenzy. She had her mother’s face, he noticed, doing the same pursy thing with her lips as she enjoyed the pleasure.

She was shaking and squirming, grinding on the sofa. She was grabbing at him. She was ready, he realized.

He pulled his legs back to get on top of her again. He massaged his cock against her.

She was holding her breath.

He began to enter.

She bit her lip and winced.

He continued sliding in.

She was panting.

He pushed into her.

She cried out.

And he wondered in horror if this was her first time.

When she regained her senses, she was grabbing at him, clawing at his back, squeezing his straining butt cheeks and pulling on him as he pushed into her, barreled back, and pushed into her again and again. She couldn’t get enough of him, it seemed, and he was happy to give her as much of his cock as he could.

He held her tight and looked into her weak eyes.

She was trying to talk.

“F-f-f-f…” she was saying.

“Yeah, little sis?” he said.

She smiled at that and then tried to talk again. “F-f-f-“

He groaned and kept driving into her.

“F-fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she was panting.

He kissed her, loving this sluttier side of her. He lifted himself up. And he plowed into her hard. She cried out, the scream echoing in the room. It hurt her, but he wanted to do it again. He wrapped an arm around her head and pounded into her again. She winced and grit her teeth but didn’t scream.

“You got this,” he said, making her beam.

He went easier on her. She moaned instead.

He carefully pulled out of her. She looked down to see what he was doing. He let his cum squirt and drip onto her navel. He squeezed more out onto her thigh. Then he plopped back down on top of her. And they held each other like that, listening as the washing machine finished the spin cycle.

When he got up moments later, he saw some redness was on the sofa.

“Oh, fuck me,” he cried out.

“What, what, what?” she said, annoyed that he was breaking their cuddle.

“Tell me you’re about to have your period or something,” he said.

She noticed it. She shook her head.

He jumped off the couch and paced the room. “This was your first time.”

“What?” she said. “So, what?”

“Shit, you were a virgin. I’m such a dick!”

“I was not a virgin, Jamie,” she said flatly.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled.

“I was not.”

“You’ve had sex before?”

“Yes.”

“With who?”

She chuckled angrily. “With whom. And none of your business.”

“Then you’re lying.”

“Plenty of guys,” she insisted, her eyes wide with anger.

“Name one.”

She thought about it.

“Ha. See? You’re bullshitting me.”

“Billy,” she said quickly.

He stopped. “My Billy?”

She nodded.

“That motherfucker.”

“Jamie, stop,” she cried out. She threw herself back on the couch and raised a hand towards him. “Come back to me.”

Her voice was breaking. She was starting to cry, but Jamie didn’t notice.

He pulled his pants back up and grabbed his shirt, kicking her clothes out of the way. He found the toolbox he had been looking for and went upstairs, cursing. He wasn’t sure who he was angry at. Sarah, a little. His mother, always. Billy, definitely. The entire world for keeping him holed up at home, for sure. But himself most of all.

He tried working on the closet door, but he was distracted. He found his phone and called Billy.

“Jamie?” Billy said. “Wow. Old buddy, what’s up? Some crazy shit going on out there, huh? I’m freakin’ unemployed now. How are you?”

“Did you date her?”

“What?”

“Did you fucking date her?”

“Hey, your mom does what she wants—”

“No, idiot, my sister,” he said.

Billy hesitated.

“Did you guys fuck?”

“Sorry, man, but—"

Jamie took it as a “yes” and was relieved. “You did, you fucking asshole,” he said anyway. He thought he had successfully scared guys away from Sarah while they were in high school. Billy must’ve slipped past him.

“What are you, jealous?” Billy said. “She’s a grown woman.”

“Still my sister.”

“What are you, saving her for yourself, Mr. Jamie fucking Lannister?” Billy said.

Jamie threw the phone aside. He tried to work on the closet door’s broken latch.

He heard Sarah go to her room and slam the door.

He sighed, calming himself down. He went to her room. He knocked and entered.

Sarah was on her bed, clothed again. She sat up and threw a pillow at him.

He picked it up and went to her.

She threw a notebook at his head. “Get out, fucker,” she said.

He came to her anyway. “I’m so sorry, Sarah.”

She tried to wriggle away from his arms but couldn’t.

“I freaked out. I’m sorry.”

She beat on him instead as the tears came back. “You left me there.”

He gathered her into his arms and kissed every part of her face he could. “I thought I had taken advantage of you.”

“I’m not a kid, jerk-face,” she said.

“No,” he said. “No, Sarah, you’re not.”

“Fuckface jerk,” she said, still fighting him.

“You’re a woman, a college girl, a beautiful, intelligent, sexy, sensuous, loveable…”

She stopped fighting in the middle of his list.

“…adorable, mature, funny, silly, wonderful sister.”

She looked down and crossed her arms.

“And lover...” he added.

Her lips parted. She looked at him and sighed.

“This is complicated as fuck. But I can’t think of anyone I’d...