Satin Butterfly: Of Spiders and Moths

There was no mistaking the telltale sounds of sex wafting through the early December morning. About a year after we had begun our torrid affair my youngest sister, Rita, had joined me in Italy. She had graduated high school and under the pretext of touring Europe with some of her friends, she flew over to Mornago, where I was staying. Though it had been three years now, we still couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. And this morning proved no different; were in the middle of another marathon lovemaking session.

“Ahhhh … don’t stop … mmmmm … lick me, Milo … yes, there… unhhh, harder … unnhhh … more … I’m close… please, baby, I need to cum … so bad …” she whispered in non sequitur as I continued to scour her tumid slit with my tongue.

Her hips were gyrating in small circles, bucking restlessly against my face while she held my head firmly against her. She was pressed against the kitchen counter with her skirt pushed high. The buttons of her blouse were undone, displaying her splendid breasts as they jiggled like firm Jello thrilling to the sensations coursing through her. And as I brought her close to edge once again, she had her eyes scrunched shut with her head thrown back her red mane tossing wildly, her body shaking like a leaf in a late autumn’s breeze. I had two fingers buried inside her, curling up and stroking downwards, working her G-Spot as I sucked on her swollen clit. I could feel the tremors begin in her chest spreading outwards like waves, rolling down the sinewy slopes of her belly, cresting as they raced through the center of her inflamed quim.  

“Oh God … yes, yessssssss … ohhhh, Miiiiiiill-lllllo … yes, darling brother … ohhhhh, baby …” she moaned, whimpering incoherently.

Referring to us as “brother” and “sister” only seemed to intensify the brewing paroxysm as her orgasm approached its peak. Her legs jerked spasmodically and her knees buckled as the nebulous balloon of pleasure erupted in a molten haze spreading rapidly though the sensory circuits of her nervous system. Her thighs squeezed tightly around my face and her body arched as she thrust her hips outward flooding my mouth with the sweet translucence of her sex. And buried in the damp, suffocating nest of her crotch I was insatiable, lapping at her juices like a dying man gleaning life from the fringes of an oasis. I could never get enough of her – I was a restless habitué drawn inexorably to the provocative bouquet of her essence, tasting and wanting more, gorged to his limits but never being fully satisfied.

I had been pleasing my sister for what seemed like hours and had brought her close several times without letting her climax. I held her teetering precariously on the high-wire, riding the seam of that mindless precipice, her body wrought by the exigent culmination she was searching for. But each time she reached the outer boundary of that abysmal void, I let her back down again; I knew her so well … every sensitive spot, every touch, every smell, every taste and even the very nerves that triggered her carnal responses. I would allow the tides of her passion to dissipate before rebuilding them again. Now as she fell through the chasm of orgasmic pleasure unencumbered by logic or thought, I could see the telltale signs flushing red on her chest radiating upwards along her throat precipitating in the fiery blush of her cheeks. And while she writhed in uncontrolled ecstasy, her fingers worked her nipples, pulling, rubbing and kneading them to heighten the intensity of her climax. I was often reduced to being a lecherous voyeur, watching the incredible journey as my sister crested the salacious waves of her orgasm. It turned me on more than anything I could conjure up… she was my x-rated stimuli.

I quickly turned her over on the counter so she was face down with her ass pointed up at me. I grabbed her hair, pulling her head back while guiding my cock into her and felt her lips spreading sensuously as the distended dome slipped into the gulping mouth of her slippery cunt.  

“You like your brother’s cock, don’t you?” I asked, knowing her response.

“Yes, yes … I need you in me, Milo … yes, darling brother, fuck me … fuck me with that hard cock of yours …now, Milo … please, do it … I need to feel you inside me …” she whimpered.

In spite of all the times we had made love and fucked (because there’s a distinct difference), she felt almost as tight as the first time I had violated her virgin hole and felt the constrictions of her canal massaging the length of the bloated invader, pulling me eagerly into her. I pushed again, this time savagely, and felt her pushing back driving my penis deep into her vagina until we were fused. I stood still behind her enjoying the closeness of the moment and could feel my tip throbbing against the epicenter of her cervix, quivering within the velvet confines of her heated core while she milked me with her vaginal muscles. I let go of her hair and securing her hips began stroking into her soggy depths while she moaned like some insatiable Banshee, her body slithering along the slippery top of the kitchen counter, wracked by the ferocity of my thrusts.  

She reached down between her legs, her fingers working the sensitive patch around her vaginal opening while bracing herself against the counter. I could see her breasts squashed by the marble, mirroring her face etched with the exuviating expressions of carnality, changing within moments molting from tortured anguish to the indiscernible serenity of her fleshy response. Her mouth parted sensuously and her tongue flicked out to wet those full, pouting lips that I knew would be sucking the reluctant juices ensconced deep inside me. I leaned forward and ran my fingers over her full, sultry lips and watched as she sucked the vestiges of her spicy sap from the incursive digit, mewling softly in girlish delight. She was a lot like Kat in that aspect – she loved fellatio and possessed the rare ability to orgasm while giving head.

And as we rode this wave of incestuous passion, I felt my sperm churning within my balls accompanied by the thickening of my already turgid shaft triggering the rapid tempo of our rhythm; I could hear her urging me, “Harder, fuck me harder, Milo …”, and then her cunt convulsed around me. She groaned again, loudly, and her body went rigid, her thighs clamped tightly together while she shuddered disjointedly in the throes of her orgasm. I felt her go wet as I continued to pump into her, harder… harder and faster. Then in the brilliance of that ecstatic moment, my eyes rolled back as the first stringy, rope of cum burst deep into the dewy wetness of my sister’s belly my cock pulsing violently as I pumped her full of my incestuous sperm. We kept thrusting against each other, groaning loudly, until finally there was nothing left and in an enervated stupor, I lay on top of her, my breath rasping against the side of her neck, enjoying the damp warmth of her body against mine.

In the languid afterglow of our lovemaking, she twisted her head backwards as I kissed her mouth allowing her to taste herself. I felt her tongue wrestling with mine, until I drew her into my mouth relishing the taste of her. We lay against the counter kissing gently and whispering the maudlin pledges that only lovers share. Then she pushed me aside, kissing my chest trailing slowly downwards to my stomach until she was squatting on the limestone floor. She took my softening flesh into her mouth licking gently, cleaning the vestigial dankness while coercing the remnants of the opalescent reward down her constricting throat. And, while her fingers caressed the base of my cock, the persistent suction was accompanied by the irrepressible manipulations of her tongue and though I had just climaxed, I felt myself hardening in her mouth. I began thrusting slowly unable to control the response of my body when we heard the grating sound of the bell from the doorway below followed by the strident call of a male voice.

“Hey, anyone home?”

*******

          We were shocked into frenetic action and broke free from our tangled embrace. Rita grabbed her panties and giggling like a schoolgirl she ran into the bedroom. Her face was radiant; her mouth puffy and glistening with the smeared amrita of our passion. The only thing I noticed as she turned was the gaudy stream of our love running down the back of her thighs!

“Wait a second … I’ll be down.” I called back knowing that the door was open and the stairs to the upper level was only a short climb.

          I quickly sprayed an Air Freshener to quell the overpowering odor of sex in the air and then buttoning up my trousers walked to the door just as Nickolas, my younger brother, made it to the landing. He was a few inches taller than my six feet but he was slender, built like a long distance runner. He smiled broadly and hugging me, quickly stepped into the living room and after a precursory look around he strolled into the kitchen. It was an open floor layout and there was no partition between the two rooms. He stood motionless for a minute sniffing the air then fumbling with the latch, he opened a window.

“Mom’s downstairs … you’d better get some fresh air in here, big fella!” He made a face and smiled.

          My house was about fifty kilometers North of Milan. It had been a small, stone farmhouse which I had painstakingly converted into a modern residence. It was still a work in progress but it was tucked away behind a hilly knoll, secluded enough to provide us with privacy. Rita and I had lived here as a couple. No one suspected that she was my sister despite the resemblance possibly because we were so different in our coloring. She was a natural redhead with light freckles and creamy white skin peculiar to the women from the Northern Europe particularly from the upper regions of Ireland and Scotland. I was dark, often mistaken for a Sicilian by the locals who would curiously ask about my obstreperous and beautiful lover. She had enrolled herself into a local college and we were lulled into a false sense of security, naively believing that we could live out our lives in tranquil indifference. She was ebullient, her bubbly personality enhanced deeply by our love, brightening my life like sunshine on a dreary day. But now I had a premonition, this intuitive feeling of gloom as my brother stood, hands in his pockets, with a crooked smile on his face.  

“What are you doing here, Nick?” I asked genuinely surprised, “and, why the hell didn’t you call?”

“It was Mom’s idea … she thought surprising you would be fun!” he replied with a laconic grin.   Then he got serious, “You had better worry about a lot more than me and the surprise … she’s here to get Rita and take her back home!”

“Fuck that …” I spat out just as my Mom walked into the house.

          She looked about the same; her hair was a bit grayer though it was hard to tell since she was a very light blond. I went over and gave her a hug holding her tightly. Though I loved my father, I was my mother’s son – her favorite and she had made no bones about that. She stepped back and gently cupped my face in her hands.

“You look well, Milo, I missed you and Rita …” she said quietly.

“I missed you too, Mom … we miss you and Dad, you know that?”

“You don’t call and we never hear from Rita … where is she?”

          I knew she could smell the musky odor which hung thickly in the air. The open window and air freshener did little to mask the heady smell of sex but she said nothing and walked over to the large sofa and sat down. We made small talk pretending that things were the way they were meant to be and for reasons I cannot ink, I felt strangely guilty. I wondered what was keeping Rita – I knew she could hear us from the bedroom,

“Hey, Chubs, guess who’s here?” I called to her trying to sound as normal as I could. I was expecting her to run out and smother my Mom with hugs and kisses.

          Instead, Rita walked out dressed in a loose tee shirt and a pair of pants; her wet hair clinging thickly about her pretty face, her eyes were wide, frightened like a doe caught in the glare of a hunter’s beam. She looked like a little girl about to cry sensing that this was the end of our idyllic sojourn. She stood leaning her back against the column near the kitchen.

“Hey, don’t I get a hug, Rita?” Nikki said, smiling broadly.

She glared at him, “Shut up, Nikki … just shut up!” she snapped belligerently. They were only a year apart and fought almost every day of their lives. “I’m not going back, Mama, I’m happy here …”

“Milo, take Nickolas and show him the town … I need to speak to Rita.” My mother ignored her and looked directly at me.

“Don’t leave me, Milo … please … Ma, you can talk to both of us …” Rita said, desperately clinging to the fragments of her independence.

          I walked over and held her to me, “It’s okay, little doll, I’ll come back soon and there’s nothing they can do … you stay strong and remember that I love you … I’ll always love you.” I whispered into her ear.

“Please don’t leave me …” she said holding onto me but I extricated myself and walked away, never looking back. Hearing her sob made my heart ache with a pain deeper than I had ever known.

********

Being Europeans in Thailand certainly had its advantages but for young boys this was a double-edged sword. The girls flocked to us while the boys had a very different angle; they just wanted to kick the living crap out of us. For those of you who don’t know much about Thailand, the men are tough and most of them know how to fight. My brothers and I had to learn quickly; it was the proverbial trial by fire. After being beaten up a few times, my father took me to a Self Defense class and I was hooked. It wasn’t long before the guys knew better than to mess with me … not that I won every fight but I was no longer an easy target. The girls still thought we were great!

           Nickolas was always thin. As a kid he was skinny to the point of looking emaciated. My parents were very concerned and had taken him to several doctors but they assured them that it was nothing to worry about, just genetics. They had been right but that didn’t get him a pass from the bullies. I intervened as much as I could but he took his beatings without complaining until finally, I dragged him to the Muay Thai gym that I belonged to. I was pretty good but Nikki was in a different category altogether. He was not just good, he was world class. After a few years, our sparring sessions became so one-sided that I refused to fight him – it was just too damn painful. And though my ego took a bruising, I watched with pride as he punished bigger and more experienced men mastering the brutal nuances of this hard and devastating martial art form. He had won several international tournaments and could have gone even further but for my father. “You can’t fight forever and this is not a way to live, hurting people … you must be constructive.” So instead, he decided to become a Chiropractor. He was finishing his residency in the US and would be “taking care of the chicks” is how he put it. A rake if there ever was one!

          We sat by the water at a small café that Rita and I frequented. Nick ordered a “Cappuccino chiaro” (a light cappuccino) and I, my usual “Doppio” (double espresso). Italians love their coffee and it wasn’t long before I was addicted to it. I could tell that he was uneasy and was struggling with what he either knew or guessed.

“You’re getting fat.” He lied. I was fitter than I’d ever been.

“Yeah, right … I can still kick your sorry ass!”

“Promises, promises … are you training at all?” he parried but I knew this was just verbal fencing.

“What’s on your mind, Nick?” I asked, cutting through the evasive banter.

“Nothing …er … what’s with you and Rita?” he asked, looking away.

          Nick looked like a male version of Kat with the same piercing blue eyes, aquiline nose, thin upper lip and a strong jaw line. His hair was a darker blond than Kat’s but the resemblance was uncanny. It is real testament to his fighting skills that in the many years of sparring and competing, he never once broke his nose.

“Give me a break, fella …” I said, still looking at him, “You’re kidding, right? You need an explanation … like you’re a bloody shrink?” He was still my kid brother and I wasn’t about to go into it with him.

“Hey, fucking your sister is sick, dude, or didn’t someone tell you that?” he retorted, suddenly angry.

We glared at each other and I had to control the urge to reach over and smack him. I looked away and sipped my coffee, sitting in silence for awhile. I studied my empty cup, examining the grinds, wondering how I could get them to understand the relationship between my sister and me. I didn’t quite understand it myself so how was I ever going to explain it to anyone?

“Milo, I’ve always looked up to you … all those years in school … that’s what I think about when I think of you … you taking care of me. I would have never survived if it wasn’t for you …” he waited and then continued, “Do you love her?”

“What do you think? She’s my whole world … I’d die for her. I don’t expect you or anyone to understand us but if you really care for me then support us and don’t look at me like that … like I’m some sick pervert!”

Just then several pretty, young women came strolling along the sidewalk smiling overtly at Nikki and he turned around following their wiggling asses as they walked by us. One of the girls said something in Italian and they all laughed turning and looking back at us. The women in Italy are just as aggressive as their male counterparts and Nick was understandably smitten.

“Wow, no wonder you stay here … you ever get some of that?” he quizzed.

“No … you’re an idiot, I just told you that I love Rita …”

“Come on, maybe a little nookie is what you need … some of that” he continued, waving his hand in the direction of the ladies “and maybe you wouldn’t want to stick it into Rita!” he laughed, slapping the table. I couldn’t help but smile – he was only twenty one and what else could he think of.

“You are an idiot!” I said affectionately.

          We sat chatting for a while catching up on all the news until the ubiquitous rain clouds gathered. We got up and walked back slowly knowing that things had changed forever. It could never be the same. The final taboo had been breached and it was his older brother and younger sister who were culpable. I was slowly distancing myself from those I loved dearly and felt desperately helpless. I’m not sure if he sensed my utter desolation at that moment but he put his arm around my shoulders and said, “I don’t think I’ll ever understand this but if you love each other, it’s none of anyone’s business … if it makes both of you happy then fuck everyone.” He paused then went on, “I have no idea what Mom wants or will do but cut her some slack; this is some heavy shit!”

“Thanks … I mean that …” I replied.

“Hey Milo, just do me one favor … okay?” he stopped and looked at me.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Don’t have any kids! How the heck am I supposed to explain a two headed nephew or six legged niece?” he said and then laughed hysterically while I playfully choked him.

          I appreciated his attempt at humor, trying to alleviate the sordid ambiance but I knew that it was a subtle cover for the real issue concerning the disturbing topic of incest. She was also his baby sister and I’m not sure if I could have handled it as evenly as he did. We walked the rest of the way in silence lost in our own thoughts.

*******

When we reached the house, Nick turned to me and extended his hand, smiling, “I’ll stay here … you go on and good luck.” I hugged him thanking him for his reluctant support and walked up the stairs filled with trepidation, worrying about what might have transpired between my Mom and Rita.  

When I opened the door I saw my sister lying with her head on my mother’s lap, curled up in a ball on the sofa, her thick, velvety hair strewn wildly like a maroon blaze. Her eyes were swollen and red and I could see that both women had been crying. I stood there not knowing quite what to do, my heart pounding in my chest, when Rita got up and came over and hugged me tightly, sobbing softly, her body molding into mine. My Mom watched for a while and then joined us in our tormented embrace, consoling my sister. We stood holding each other, a sorry triumvirate of broken souls, until finally my mother stepped back and wiping her eyes, said:

“I’m going to the hotel … you both come over for dinner.”

“Why don’t you stay here, Mom? Rita and you can have the bedroom … Nick and I can sleep in the living room.” I wanted my family to be with me even though I realized that Rita and I couldn’t be intimate while my mother was with us.

“No, I like the hotel … it is comfortable and I can get room service … at my age, that is most important!” she smiled, then added, “We’re visiting with Maria and will be gone for a week and then Rita is coming home with us.”

“Why is Rita …” I blurted out but she cut me off.

“Milo, don’t start … one week; that’s all and then she’s coming home with me … do you understand?” her blue eyes boring into me. “Rita knows what’s right even if you don’t.” And without further argument she gave my sister a hug, holding her tightly for a moment and then she held both my hands in hers and looking up into my eyes, her expression softening considerably, she repeated, “One week, Milo … you have one more week …” and walked down the stairs. I watched the car drive away; my world turned upside down in total disarray then like portending ill-fate it began drizzling.

          We didn’t waste a minute, making love every chance we got. I took the week off from work and we engaged in every form of carnality that two people could conjure up. For Rita, there was a renewed urgency making her hyper erotic … insatiable in our lovemaking like some condemned prisoner feasting on her last meal. I loved this woman more than I thought was possible and the fact that she was my sister, made this fragile relationship all the more pristine. By the end of the week, we were exhausted both emotionally and physically. And on the last night we were too tired to make love, too tired to cry and too tired to sleep; so we stayed up in front of the fire, nestled together sipping Sambuca, the heady liqueur dulling some of the pain. It was then that she explained what my mother had confided in her. Her past reflecting some of the reality we both faced. It just went to confirm my belief that incest might be a genetic aberration running in families with a wider array of DNA causing siblings to be uncharacteristically attracted to one another.  

Finally it happened almost surrealistically - I was standing in the Airport watching as they made their way through the teeming crush of the security queues. Rita was a huddled mass of sobs, crying inconsolably into Nick’s shirt. My mother, always the strong matriarch, looked back and waved and then they were gone. I was heartbroken, wretched in my aloneness – the hapless moth trapped in his own Machiavellian web of schemes.

*******

At my behest, Rita had left some of her clothing behind, a melancholic reminder of the life we shared but most prized were her unwashed panties stained with the nectar of her arousal, marking them like special trophies to be added to my tragic collection. I would fall asleep at night, talking to her on the cell, sniffing the crotch of her panties and jerking off into the folds of her satin camisole. For weeks we consoled each other by taking turns to arouse and stimulate playing the sordid games of phone sex which like an opiate ran its course until the actual need for contact rendered the substitute ineffective. But in the end, I was like other men, needing the warmth and softness of a female body and sought refuge in the willing arms of the local girls.

There was one dusky beauty that shared the same passions as my sister and insisted on demonstrating her proclivity for fellatio. Night after night, she would drain the life from my tired, distraught body as I watched her lips ride the ridges of my inflamed cock, her black hair shimmering in the shadows cast by the flickering flames of my fireplace. And while she bobbed tirelessly over my aching root, sucking and licking with a proficiency that few could match, my mind would wander through the clouds of fantasy where sultry images of my sister seared the heights of my passion driving me to climax while whispering her name, shooting musty streams of glutinous cum down the throat of this burnished Aphrodite.

*******