Satin Butterfly V: Sirens in Amsterdam
Prolog: Reading Satin Butterfly: Spiders and Moths and Satin Butterfly IV before reading this episode would provide a reference and a sense of continuity but I have tried to make this a standalone read. It was written especially for those ladies (you know who you are) who have sent me the many emails … thank you for the kind words and enjoy. This has taken a bit longer than I anticipated but I was traveling. This particular episode is loosely based on an incident which took place a few years back.
December in Amsterdam can be cold, damp and rainy and this one proved to be no exception. It was six in the morning and my girlfriend, Hanna, and I were at the KLM Terminal at Schiphol waiting for the flight from New York to arrive. Rita, my youngest sister had spent three weeks in Manhattan with my younger brother, Nickolas, and his wife, Elsa. She had always wanted to visit the Big Apple and used the birth of my niece as an excuse to make the trip. It was five months since I had attended Kat’s wedding in Phuket (Kat, short for Katarina, is my other sister, the one with whom my incestuous journey had begun when we were teens). It was after the reception that Rita and I had rekindled our passionate affair and the family had assumed a ‘laissez faire’ attitude of non-interference letting fate run its course. But now I was conflicted, both eager and apprehensive, about her visit. This would be the first time that Hanna and Rita were going to meet and though Hanna had been supportive of my relationship with my sister, it had never been in such close proximity to her.
I had gone to Phuket on Hanna’s urging and when I had returned in late June, she had wanted to know everything that had transpired between Rita and me often probing for the lascivious details with the cunning of a trial lawyer. And fueled by the memory of these incidents we would end up in bed fucking with a heightened sense of urgency. Oddly, the sexual relationship I shared with my sister did not bother Hanna in the least bit – as far as she was concerned it existed in a parallel reality which had little or no effect on her life with me. Now all this was about to change and I wondered how she would handle my sexy and often obstreperous little sister.
It was chilly inside the arrivals hall and we were huddled together sipping hot coffee to keep us warm staring out at the lashing rain beating down on the sidewalk whipping wildly with the blustery winds as the gray cumulus clouds gathered ominously in the skies above. Dark and dreary; this was a side of Europe I wasn’t crazy about.
“What a miserable day.” I said, as she snuggled up against me, “I hope the flight’s not delayed.”
“It’s not miserable it’s just raining, Milo… and that can be fun if we want to make it!” she replied snuggling closer, enjoying the warmth of our bodies pressed against each other with my cardigan wrapped around us.
I smiled, she had a way of always making me feel better, “Now tell me again why I deserve you?” and before she could answer, I kissed her gently on her mouth.
“Mmmmm …” she moaned softly.
I felt her lips part and tasted the lingering flavor of the coffee mixed with the sweetness of her essence. And while we kissed, her hand snaked down between us feeling for me; my response was predictable, my cock stiffened as she fondled me through the thin material of the jogging trousers. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, probing, slithering against my own, swirling wetly as I sucked on her. I knew that this was crazy but passion is a strange and unpredictable beast one without rationale or reason. We had made love in almost every possible place imaginable but never in an airport and I knew we were quickly reaching a point where there would be no turning back. My cock jerked as her fingers rubbed the engorged head her grip tightening around the tumid stem buried within the covert shadows of our bodies. The wild side of this golden seraph could arouse me like only one other woman could but just as my hips began thrusting involuntarily into her fist, I noticed the splintered throngs of people streaming out from the Customs Hall.
Regaining some semblance of control, I said, “I see people coming out … I think the flight may have arrived …” my voice muffled and low, strained with the desire for her.
“Mmmm… that felt nice, Milo …” she said, purring like a kitten, looking up at me with hooded, vacuous eyes.
Thoughts of the previous night flashed through my mind as I reluctantly pried her hand off of me, “Later, baby … we’ll pick this up later …” and holding her close, walked towards the crowds hoping that no one would notice the overt bulging of my trousers.
As the passengers began exiting through Customs and spilling randomly into the meeting area we peered through the glass partition trying to locate Rita. I noticed her almost immediately standing by the carousel waiting for her bag. She was impossible to miss; her red velvety mane was a dead giveaway and hung densely around her pretty face contrasting with her creamy, alabaster skin. She exuded an aura of aloof self confidence laced with an indescribable sexuality that seemed to surround her like a magnetic field drawing looks of curiosity and attraction. I was reminded of Mornago (Italy), where the men would openly proposition her with lewd suggestions even when I was with her – this had led to some altercations and after a few one-sided and bloody incidents, I had earned a reputation as someone to be avoided. Growing up outside Bangkok, I had spent many years studying Muay Thai, Tae Kwon Do and other Martial Art forms and knew how to take care of myself. It wasn’t long before most of them shied away from any direct confrontation reserving their remarks for when I wasn’t around. She was only seventeen then and thought that their slanted bravado was funny and would point out the culprits when we’d pass by them, laughing as they’d scurry away from us. That seemed like ages ago and my heart ached at the memory of our life in Mornago and just looking at her standing there.
She was wearing a pair of tight hip-hugger jeans which accentuated her callipygian ass and a short tank top displaying the sensual lines of her taut, flat stomach down a little past the slight swell of her belly button. In the distance you could still make out the perfect mounds of her breasts and I felt myself flex involuntarily but this time it was the sight of my sister which elicited the earthy response. I was standing behind Hanna, holding her to me and she looked up and smiled knowingly, her violet-blue eyes brimming with promise.
She too had seen Rita and pointing to her excitedly, “There she is … she is so beautiful!”
We waited near the end of the walkway watching other passengers stroll by and then she appeared - the long, fluid strides, the suggestive sway of her hips, her hair bouncing about her while her large almond shaped eyes scanned the crowds until she saw us. She dropped her duffle bag and the big suitcase she was rolling behind her and ran into my arms.
“God, I missed you Milo!” she whispered burying her face in my neck. I gently stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head as she pressed her body into mine. The smell of her and the feel of her breasts and thighs against me brought back memories of Phuket and made me pulse salaciously, my mind losing all sense of my surroundings. And just that quickly I was inflamed with an overwhelming lust for my sister – my passion for her overrode anything I felt for Hanna or for that matter, anyone else.
“And I missed you more, baby girl.” I replied, hugging her tightly to me; a lovers hug unlike the innocuous exchanges that brothers and sisters normally share.
“Why didn’t’ you call me when you landed?” I asked.
“I couldn’t get a signal, I’m not sure why … I’m sorry, Milo, I tried …” she said, then added, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you … about us … I missed you so much!” She was whispering softly into the side of my neck so that only I could hear her.
Hanna had come over to us and was waiting patiently with a slight smile on her face but Rita held onto me until finally I disengaged myself and said, “Hanna this is Rita, my little sister.”
They looked at each other and then hugged briefly before Rita pulled back saying, “My brother loves you very much Hanna and I hope that we will become friends.” Her voice was soft and though it sounded rehearsed there was a sincere shyness that surprised me and prevented it from being contrived.
“I know we will, Rita, I’m sure of it!” Hanna replied enthusiastically and taking Rita’s hand, “you look so much like him …” she added glancing over at me.
“Thank you … I think!” Rita said and they laughed.
I could sense that Rita wanted to stay close to me but when I went to collect her bags, Hanna began talking about New York and very soon, they were chatting animatedly bonding within the mysterious sorority of feminine empathy leaving me to tote Rita’s heavy bag. And as I trailed behind them, I couldn’t help but notice their synchronized gait and the similarity of their bodies. There was a feline grace to their strides and fleeting thoughts of a threesome danced lewdly in my mind as I followed the lazy wiggle of their swaying asses. I wondered about their conversation knowing that Hanna had a million questions and Rita could talk … she could talk to anyone; she had always been a gregarious extrovert.
“Wait here … I’ll get the car.” I said and ran quickly to the Parking Garage trying to avoid getting drenched. The rain had abated to a drizzle and when I pulled up in the car, Hanna got into the back.
“Rita, you sit in the front - I know you two have a lot to talk about.” She said, remaining true to her considerate nature.
The InterContinental Amstel was about a half hour from Schiphol Airport and located in the heart of Amsterdam. I drove listening to Rita as she prattled on about the recent developments with the family; Dad’s health, Mom wanting us to come back home to Thailand and Mary, our maid, who had taken care of us as kids and who was still there helping Mom. Then there was the news of Kat and Hank and their honeymoon and of course, her stay in New York. She had a slew of photographs which she passed onto Hanna – pictures of the family, of my brothers, snapshots of Kat and me when we were quite young. And there were some photos of the old British Bungalow in Thailand where we grew up and where my parents still resided.
Hanna leaned over my shoulder and held up a dog-eared picture so I could get a glimpse of it. It was photograph of the beautiful house with the immaculate garden and the large Acacia which I remembered so well. If that old tree could talk, oh what tales it would tell - as teens, Kat and I had made love so many times in the covert shadows of its gnarly branches …
I could still recall her running home after school and stealing behind the huge Acacia where I would be waiting for her. She would be breathless; her face flushed with excitement as I pulled down her knickers and while she held up her gray, pleated skirt I would push my cock into her. She was always wet and for the longest time I had the misguided notion that all girls were perpetually in a state of heat. We would fuck frantically, pressed up against the trunk of that ancient mimosa with an urgency steeped by our raging hormones and after we were done, she would kiss me and sneak stealthily into the house. She used to playfully complain about the telltale stains of my cum which would leak into her panties but that never stopped her from meeting me behind that tree. And though, over the years, we had drifted apart I felt a sentimental tug … it was largely because of her that Rita and I shared this incredible relationship.
“The house and the garden are just like you described it, Milo, I imagined it almost like this …” Hanna said, interrupting my thoughts.
There were more recent pictures of New York with Nikki and Elsa and their baby girl and then finally of Rita and me in Karon (a beach in Phuket). Some of these pictures were pretty suggestive and I wondered what was going through Hanna’s mind.
“What a beautiful family you have!” she remarked, “Kat and Jan and Nickolas look like your mother and the two of you are like each other but not really like your father … maybe a mix?” then added, “Where did you get your hair from, Rita, it is so full … distinctive, yes! ”
“From my Grandmother; she was a redhead … I still remember her. I used to braid her hair and it was a lot like mine.”
“It’s odd that all of you are so light and Milo is dark …” she mused, staring at a family snapshot.
“We think the hospital made a mistake …” Rita said and laughed, “but Dad says that Gypsies left him at our doorstep!” She leaned over and hugged me affectionately, “We love him anyway!” She blushed after making the last remark. She wasn’t sure just Hanna was going to handle our abnormal relationship.
I had noticed the little tattoo just above her belly button – it was of a butterfly done artfully in dramatic shades of turquoise blue, green and black with highlights of yellow and red. I glanced at it a few times and then asked, “What’s with the tattoo?”
She smiled, “I got it done in New York … do you like it?”
“I haven’t really looked at it.” I replied.
“Well, maybe later …” she said looking at me suggestively and then turned and began scrambling over the center divider.
“What are you doing, crazy girl?” I asked, surprised, as she slid between the two front seats.
“Let me show it to you, Hanna …” she gasped tumbling over the console and I could hear them giggling as Hanna helped her into the backseat spilling some of the photographs she had been studying.
I adjusted the rearview mirror to get a better glimpse of them. Rita had sort of scrunched into the rear corner; her legs shifted sideways. She was lying back a bit so that the tattoo was clearly visible. Hanna was leaning over her examining the artwork on her stomach and then she looked into the mirror at me and said, “It’s wonderful … so delicate!” then turning to Rita, “Why did you choose a butterfly?”
“We had beautiful butterflies in our garden and Milo used to draw them for me … I collected these sketches as a little girl. I guess I fell in love with butterflies then!” She answered bringing back memories of my early obsession with the iridescent Lepidopteron.
“The colors are so vivid … almost real …” Hanna added, running her fingers gently along Rita’s belly, tracing the outline of the tattoo. I’m not sure why but watching Hanna touch my sister sent a surge of sexual energy shooting through me. I tried to shake the thought and made a concerted effort to concentrate on maneuvering through the building traffic.
“These were done with natural colors and not plastic so after some years it will fade a bit …” Rita continued pausing as Hanna studied the tattoo and then added, “but I didn’t want any plastic dyes in me.”
“Natural is always better.” Hanna remarked, “I like the way the M blends into the wings …”
The obvious implication of the tattoo was not lost on Hanna or me.
“It is a painful process to get this removed if you ever wanted to … you know that, don’t you?” I said to Rita.
“Why would I want to get it removed?” Rita asked.
“Just ignore him, he’s so dense sometimes …” Hanna chided and then, “It’s beautiful, Rita, I have always wanted to get one but never had the courage … now, maybe you can help me pick one out.”
“That’ll be fun … let’s do it!” she exclaimed, suddenly excited, “You know, you can get a butterfly too … we’ll be part of a gang; we’ll call ourselves …” she paused then added, “… the Tenth Street Butterflies!” She struck a pose like a gangster then they both laughed like little kids who had shared a dirty, little secret. Our bungalow in Thailand was on Tenth Street but I don’t think that Hanna knew the significance of her play on the name.
“Where did you get it done?” I asked not quite knowing what they were giggling about.
“The Rising Dragon in New York City… very cool and very Asian!” Rita said, “Nikki was glaring at the guy the whole time because he asked me to unzip my jeans!” She was smiling and I could just imagine my brother being protective of Rita. Nikolas was a character. He as only a year older than Rita but he seemed so much older and was one of the toughest men I knew. It was a wonder that the Tattoo artist didn’t get his arm broken!
Then they resumed their conversation. Snippets of their dialogue wafted softly to the front of the car, some which brought a smile to my face.
“Did he tell you how we met …?” Hanna asked.
“Not really … just that you met in Düsseldorf …” Rita answered trying to keep her voice to a whisper.
“That’s just like him … you wouldn’t believe it …” Hanna said, keeping with the cryptic tone.
“What did he do? Run around naked showing off his muscles?” Rita asked and I heard them giggle and then, Hanna went into our first meeting.
“I wish … no, unfortunately I had to chase him into a bar at the Fair …” And as they chatted I was left alone with my thoughts and an overpowering sense of change of which I had little control.
I pulled up in front of the old, statuesque hotel and like invisible wraiths the bellboys materialized with practiced efficiency. And, while they unloaded the bags, I was about to hand over the keys to the valet when Hanna took them from me.
“I’m going to visit my family, Milo … I’ll be back at around six in the evening. Dinner reservation is for seven.” She said, walking towards the front of the car.
She hugged Rita, “I’m so happy we finally meet, Rita – thank you for sharing the photos. You and I are going to be great friends!” and then she came over to me, holding me tightly, whispering “You both need time alone … I love you, Milo, but she needs you now.” Then before I could say anything she turned to Rita, “I’ll see you later …” and flashing a quick smile, her hair blowing wildly in the gusting wind, she got into the car, waved and was gone.
When we got to our suite Rita stood by the window staring out over the Amstel River waiting for the bellboy to leave. He was a loquacious, older gentleman and taking us for tourists insisted on explaining, in great detail, the various landmarks and the exciting nightlife the city had to offer. I listened to his droning babble with growing impatience, my mind filled with streaming, lascivious thoughts of my sister and the things we were about do but I was reluctant to cut him off.
He saw me glancing over at her and caught on and smiling he apologized for rambling, “I’m sorry, Sir, I won’t keep you … if you need anything just ask for me … Klaus!”
I tipped him and as soon as he left I locked the door but before I could turn around, she was in my arms knocking me back within her fierce embrace. We kissed passionately; her mouth opening up, her tongue pushing forcefully against mine as we tried to make up for the time we had been apart. I loved the taste of her, the sweet freshness of her mouth and wetness of her tongue, the softness of her pouting lips … every aspect of her created a heightened stimulus for me. The more I had of her, the more I wanted her. My hands roamed down her body pulling her into me by her ass, our crotches grinding lewdly against each other. It was the first time we had been together in six months and though we spoke almost every night, I had missed her terribly. I held her close, one hand around the small of her back and the other cupping her sensual behind. I could feel the soft warmth of her skin radiating through my fingers as I lightly massaged the shallow curve of her spine, tracing the outline of her waist which flared seductively at her hips and the tantalizing swell of her sexy behind. Her body molded perfectly into mine like yin and yang; pieces of a puzzle that were meant for one another.
She had been unusually quiet after Hanna had left and sensing her pensive petulance I kissed the sides of her face along the jaw line, nuzzling her hair and asked, “Hey, why the sad face?”
“It’s so complicated. Before she was just a photograph but now … now I like her and she is so nice and pretty; you make great couple …” she said softly.
I could sense where this was going; she had always felt guilty of being in the middle of my relationships and this wasn’t the first time we had discussed it.
“Hey, stop … please stop!” I interrupted, “I love Hanna but this is different. There is nothing I can do about my feelings for you, baby girl … there will never be anyone else who fills that space in my life, you know that don’t you?”
“Yes, I know and I also know that everyone, Nikki, Jan, Dad and even Kat … they think we are sick! They don’t say anything but it’s the way they look at me. And, they keep telling me to marry Alex … how can I marry Alex? I don’t even let him touch me anymore … I can’t because I think …” her voice trailed off, her expression like that of a lost schoolgirl.
Alex was the man she had been seeing for a while, and then she continued, “Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. All I know is that I feel the same way about you – are we sick, Milo?” she said looking up at me. There was a vulnerability about her that had always appealed to me.
“I don’t know …” I replied honestly, “I know it’s different and that we haven’t hurt anyone … God knows I’ve tried everything to get over you, especially after Mornago, but I can’t and I’m not wasting any more time. Hanna knows about us and hasn’t objected so I really don’t care about the others - screw them. Dad … well, Dad and Mom, I understand and I’ll cut them some slack but I can’t live by their rules; we have get on with our lives the way we see fit!”
She was quiet again lost in her thoughts and as much as I felt for her, the physical effect she had on me was overpowering. I began rubbing her back making small circles downwards and pushed my hand under the tight waistband of her jeans, running my finger along the crack of her ass through the satin feel of her panties. I kissed her neck again inhaling the faint fragrance of her perfume, she was wearing Joy, and felt her respond, but then she wanted closure to this convoluted discussion and pushed me back looking straight into my eyes.
“I keep feeling that I am holding you from happiness, Milo … am I? Please tell me the truth!” she said, her large eyes glimmering, beginning to brim with tears.
“You are not holding me from anything … I am only truly happy when I’m with you, baby girl …” I assured her, “but I’ve missed you so let’s not go there now.”
She fell quiet again having seemingly resolved whatever it was that was bothering her and then taking a deep breath she said, “I would die if I couldn’t see you, Milo … I’m a mess … I need to take a shower, okay?”
I held her tightly, my body flooding with emotion and tried kissing her but she squirmed away, smiling seductively, “Not that easy, brother dear, you’re going to have to wait … you are being punished for cheating on your little sister …”
“I’ve never cheated on you … not emotionally!” I said.
“Really? Then who was that blond beauty …?” she smiled impishly and then darted into the bathroom.
Now this was the Rita that I knew!
I waited a while listening to the water running before opening the door. The steam had fogged up the mirrors and hung heavily in the air misting up the small enclosure while I shed my tee shirt and trousers. I noticed her clothing lying in a tangled heap on the floor with her panties strewn carelessly over her jeans. I picked it up and felt the sticky moistness of the crotch area and without thinking, sniffed it and was instantly inebriated by the heady bouquet of her scent. My cock was hard and throbbing as I stroked myself lazily watching her blurry silhouette through the translucent shower curtain. She was facing away from me, her face pointing up to the showerhead while the water cascaded wetly down her body. I pulled the flimsy plastic drape aside and stepped into the tub hugging her from behind my turgid shaft nestling in the crack of her ass, pulsing awkwardly as she leaned back into me. I cupped her breasts while she rested her head against my shoulder her eyes closed whispering softly as the water splashed off of our bodies reflecting brightly in the steamy neon haze. Her ivory, pink flesh contrasting erotically against the dark, brownish copper of my skin as my fingers traversed the contours of her body. Brother and sister, lover and friend.
“I was thinking of you, darling brother … willing you to join me …” she said over the gushing sound of the shower. I felt an incestuous thrill like a lecherous tingle, whenever she called me ‘brother’ infusing our forbidden liaison with the acknowledgement of our sanguine ties.
I kissed the long arc of her neck and sucked her earlobe into my mouth, tickling the soft flesh with the tip of my tongue – her ears and the area surrounding them had always been sensitive; an integral part of her erogenous circuitry and sure enough, I felt her tremble and almost instinctively her hand slid down to her cunt. I squeezed her breasts and pinched her pink, hard nipples pulling and rolling them in between forefinger and thumb. She moaned louder her face twisting back, her mouth searching for mine. My sister had a finger pushed deep inside her pussy rubbing her clit with the heel of her palm as I covered her hand with my own thrilling to the sensation of her hips undulating in reaction to her somatic urges. We stood there brazed by the liquid warmth of the water our lips locked in a passionate kiss, her icy-hot breath rasping into my mouth as she moaned again and again responding to my reflexive thrusts burrowing my cock within the slippery crack of her ass.
She turned towards me and began soaping my body working down from my chest towards my turgid stem. Then like a dancer moving with practiced grace she maneuvered behind me still gripping my cock peeling the skin back to reveal the angry, bloated head. And using a dash of liquid soap she lathered the dome, gently sliding her fist over and against the prominent, mushroomed ridge stroking up and down, jerking me off while watching the soapy suds bubble, frothing lewdly around my tumid shaft. She had mastered the art of masturbating me and derived intense pleasure from watching me cum. And in the whispers of our shrouded communions she had confessed her morbid desires to me; the thoughts that drummed in her brain which triggered her sullied bliss. Images of her stroking the hard length of my cock as it throbbed uncontrollably, spitting out the manifestations of her fleshy avarice while she fingered herself over the edge and into the vibrant depths of carnal oblivion.
I could see her eyes wide and bright, transfixed in a wicked stupor as she pumped my trembling root. Her fingers traversed upwards to cover the pulsing helmet with her fist, squeezing it before stroking back down, the engorged dome popping through her palm like an angry, breathless toad slick with the slippery tears oozing profusely from the Cyclops-like eye. Her skill was honed over the many nights she had milked my rampant cock and I knew that I wouldn’t last so before losing it all, I forced her fingers off of me.
“Let me finish … please, baby … I need to see you cum …” she pleaded fighting to retain her grip on my agitated cock.
But I lifted her face and kissed her deeply allowing my tongue to explore her depths, licking tenderly inside her soft, quivering mouth as she relinquished herself to me. Her hands cupped my face while her body pressed urgently into mine.
“Not this time, little sister … this time I’m going to fuck you first.” I said leaning down taking her erect, pointed nipple into my mouth. I heard her gasp as I took turns alternately suckling her and pinching her tender nipples, I ran my fingers along the liquid length of her silky, auburn cavern until finally, spreading the sticky petals of the mystical lotus, I inserted a finger into her depths and was enveloped by the convulsing embrace of her voracious cunt, her legs spreading crassly with anxious impatience.
“Let’s get comfortable …” I said, my voice laced with anticipation, “… in the bedroom.”
I turned the water off and we dried each other paying special attention to all the secret places, dabbing, rubbing, sliding against each other in a provocative ballet – an unpracticed but erogenous foreplay. It wasn’t easy keeping her off of me - she was relentless in the pursuit of her oral proclivity and went down onto the carpet, sucking me into her mouth. She enjoyed giving head and was very proficient at it; in fact, she loved it more than almost anything else but I really wanted to fuck my sister … I had been thinking about it ever since we had been together in Phuket. After a brief struggle, I pulled her up and led her by her hand to the bedroom my mind flooding with images of every lewd act we had indulged in.
When I pushed her down on the bed she looked up holding my cock, “I want you in my mouth …” she murmured in a throaty whisper and made a move towards my turgid penis but I eased her down and over onto her back on the soft mattress, kissing her belly licking the tattoo trailing downwards while her legs parted; her petals spreading like the blooming of a Water Lily.
“Not now, baby girl … right now, I need to taste you and then I am going to fuck your brains out!” I said, hoarse with desire for her. She looked into my eyes and smiled, then lay back as her eyes closed in willing resignation.
I settled down between her thighs, and leaning over the sacred triangle of her sex I lapped her vagina flattening my tongue licking upwards from the bottom of her slit to the top. I did this over and over again until her hips began their familiar roll, undulating against my mouth; the muscles of her thighs corded and flexing as the waves of pleasure began building then crested, crashing fiercely against the shores of her sensual palette. I used the tip of my tongue to push the satiny sheath back revealing her engorged little nub and sucked her clit into my mouth thrilling to the silky, liquid texture of her, tasting the tangy nectar streaming from her core trickling slowly in little rivulets into the crack of her ass. I felt her fingers running through the dense layers of my hair, curling tightly, pulling me into her cuntal nexus while her hips jerked and bucked in lascivious response to the incessant probing of my tongue. I fluttered the tip against the sensitive flesh trapped between my teeth and heard her groan as I nibbled on swollen pea and then slipped a finger deep into her.
“Ohhh … don’t stop … I’m close … oh, oh God, ohhh …” she moaned in non sequitur, her breathing irregular and heavy as she writhed in paroxysmal bliss.
I felt the spasm start deep inside her vaginal passage grabbing at the finger wiggling in her and then her whole body shook, racked by convulsions as her long legs wrapped around my head securing me in place. I sucked on her lapping at her clit with a flattened tongue; rubbing it as rapidly as I could. I was now trapped within the steamy moistness of her crotch inhaling the piquant fragrance of the sensual garden while her hips bucked uncontrollably smearing her pussy juice all over my face as the waves of orgasmic pleasure washed over her tortured body, swelling and breaking like frothing surf along the edges of a rocky beach.
Her hips arched high off the bed pressing her cunt forcefully against me as I ran my hands over her abdomen feeling the sinewy muscles quivering down into the V of her sex. She jerked again and again, hissing softly, making guttural sounds that emanated from deep within her soul and then just as suddenly, like a balloon that had burst, her body relaxed, going limp lying languidly back on the bed, her hips rollicking slightly from side to side as I continued to lick around the petals of her core. I ran my tongue slowly along the periphery of her swollen outer lips licking the inside of her thighs as she descended from the throes of her climax, my eyes riveted on the M hidden within the wings of the tattooed Butterfly.
“My darling brother,” she sighed, “I love cumming on your tongue, mmmm … into your mouth!”
Her fingers played with my hair as I continued licking her pussy, lapping at the silvery, wetness of her slit as she trickled the viscous ambrosia of her fleshy response. And each time I touched the underside of her clit with the tip of my tongue, her body jerked and her thighs closed in a protective reflex trembling against the sides of my face until the sensations dissipated leaving her listless and satiated.
I felt her pulling me up, mumbling softly, “I need you in me, Milo … please, now … fill me with your cock, baby …”
And, requiring no further encouragement I moved up her body feeling the softness giving under me while her fingers guided my throbbing member into her. I felt her lips spreading open, wet … so enticingly wet, as the mushroomed tip skewered her constricting passage opening her up like a thrusting spear. She was just as tight as the day she gave herself to me. I heard her moan, a soft delectable sound resurrecting the memories of that first time I ravished her. I felt my cock throbbing wickedly inside her as images of her trembling body and the sounds of her girlish squeals filled my carnal mind.
She was a bit thicker now, fleshy with softer curves, filling out nicely in all the right places. Gone were the lean angles of her girlish body replaced instead by this sensual Aphrodite. She raised her legs wrapping herself around me, pulling me into her, urging me with her lewd incestuous thoughts telling me things of which only lovers confess. She used her cervical muscles to squeeze me, her liquid canal milking me into her while her hips thrust back at me, our bodies moving to the primordial rhythm of life … in and out, back and forth, set to the soft, slapping cadence of our grinding pelvises.
“Fuck me … fuck me, Milo, I missed you … this … I missed this, baby …” she hissed, her voice stuttering to the driving beat of my cock plunging in and out of her accompanied by the wet, sticky sounds of our frantic union.
“You like your brother’s cock in you … don’t you, little sister …?” I replied wanting her to acknowledge the incestuous union.
“Oh Yes, yes, yesssss … harder, darling brother, yes … my Milo … I’m yours for anything you want … any----th---ing … at all!” she groaned, her breath rasping against my neck as I ploughed into her, pummeling her body against the springy softness of the mattress. As far back as I can remember my sister had been wired for sex and unlike Kat, Rita was never shy about her sexuality.
I held her ass pulling her into me and rolled us over so she was now on top of me. She kissed me ever so softly, our faces hidden within the dark veil of her velvety mane. Her mouth felt paradoxically cold and warm as she planted little kisses over my face. Then sitting back on her haunches, my cock buried deep within her, she threw her head back tossing her thick mane away from her face, her breasts jutting out proudly as she began sliding her cunt on my turgid root. I held her hips, my fingers feeling the pliable softness of her flesh through to the striated tendons running down into her thighs as I helped her bounce up and down on me. Her hair whipped about her like a silky, red blanket, her eyes were closed and her face contorted as we rode each other to the brink of mindless Euphoria.
I could feel my cock tense and tremble at the first tingling sensations shooting from the tip racing like a nefarious wildfire licking outwards to my extremities. And just before the impending explosion, I saw her bite down on her bottom lip, her head thrown back and felt her go wet, her cunt convulsing madly as her knees squeezed against the sides of my body. She moaned loudly sending me crashing; the brilliant lights exploding like millions of stardust in my addled brain as I spewed my incestuous seed deep into my sister’s belly. Shot after shot, I pumped my ropey cum sending it rocketing into her vaginal tunnel until there was nothing left but the salacious pulsing of the rubbery beast.
She leaned forward lying against me, her breasts heaving from the effort, her body warm and soft covered in a silvery sheen of sweat. And when I opened my eyes, she had shimmied down, sucking me into her mouth, gently cleaning the vestiges of our viscous creaming. She held the sensitive head against her palate licking around the flared ridge sending shooting spikes of pleasure through me. I lay there twitching like some ragamuffin doll watching her gleaming body suck the very life out from me and as my cock began to harden again I knew then with undying certainty that there would never be anyone for me like her. On the wings of the Northern Winds did the Pale Warrior ride, his body swathed in bloody riposte a requiem to the battles past. And beside him stood his Golden Sister rising like the Arctic Mist defiant lover to her Brother’s desire, Slave to his sordid lust …
Rita and I sat in the lobby waiting for Hanna. She was curled up against me her head resting against the crook of my neck, her hair falling in a thick, shimmering veil over the side of her face, while she held onto my arm which was around her. She looked very much like the little girl I remembered growing up with – it was amazing to me just how much had happened to us. The chubby, little tomboy who followed me around; the curious little girl I had read stories to before she went to sleep and the exuberant, beautiful teenager who had swept me off my feet. She was only sixteen when we seduced each other and as I looked at her now, I couldn’t believe that this gorgeous vixen, my sister, was mine. Just then she looked up at me and smiled and as I leaned down and kissed her forehead I wondered if she was thinking the same thoughts as I. Remarkably, as though blessed with telepathy, I felt her empathetically squeeze my arm and snuggle into my chest oblivious of the people walking by and staring down at us.
Then a little after six, Hanna arrived. She looked radiant, a golden paedomorphic nymph dressed in a black, silk dress cut low in the back, clinging tightly to her body accentuating the roundness of her ass. The dress came down a little past her knees but the slits in the side provided tantalizing glimpses of her thighs as she walked. Her blond hair was coiffed in a bun and she had deferred her usual natural look for a bit more make-up. When she spotted us, she flashed a big, happy smile showing off her pearly, white teeth, her lips glossed in shades of a light cherry red. Rita sat up and was the first to greet her.
“You look so lovely, Hanna … really stunning!” she said, genuinely impressed, “I love the dress!”
“Thank you!” Hanna replied, beaming at the compliment. They hugged and as was the Dutch custom, Hanna kissed her three times on the cheek and held her back looking at her appreciatively.
“I think you already know this, Rita, but you are so gorgeous!” she added with sincerity, “You could wear anything and you would look … how do you say … er … delicious? Delectable, yes!”
Rita blushed; she had never really come to terms with her looks. She had morphed from the proverbial Ugly Duckling when she hit her teens but the sultry Swan’s lack of self esteem was rooted in the pudgy, little child who remained hidden somewhere deep within her beautiful body.
The girls huddled together discussing their outfits and the designers they liked while I checked on our reservations – we were still a bit early. Rita had on a reddish ochre dress with a matching short Swing coat embroidered with intricate patterns of black taken from the Laura Ashley Fall collection. The front was cut low enough to allow for a hint of her spectacular breasts. The ensemble also brought out the highlights in her hair which had been pushed back, falling around her face like a thick, velvet halo. I was touched by the magnanimity of Hanna’s gesture and her willingness to accommodate my little sister.
“You are beautiful, Hanna … in more ways than you’ll know!” I said and pulled her to me, kissing her lightly on the lips. It might have been the moment or the fact that she had sacrificed the day but Hanna held on to me and kissed me with ardor, her tongue snaking into my mouth pressing her body into me. I think there was a part of her that wanted to let Rita know that she was still my girlfriend and was claiming me back, at least for a while.
There was an awkward moment where Rita was not sure quite what to do and stood back looking at me, her faced etched with melancholic concern. There were no rules or manuals to this game and I was just as unsure of how we should behave but it was Hanna who came to the rescue again and made it easy for us to be together.
“Come here, silly girl …” she said, reaching out and pulling her to us, “he belongs to you and me … the, hmmm … what did you call us? The something Butterflies … yes …?”
“The Tenth Street Butterflies …” Rita whispered, smiling as her expression softened.
“Yes, the Tenth Street Butterflies …” Hanna mimicked and then she struck a pose imitating Rita. And as we stood holding each other, a triptych of flawed souls, I was thankful for the moments of joy and sadness woven in tight patterns which have made my life an elusive tapestry of omnifarious experiences.
As we walked to our corner table I could sense the covert looks we elicited and much to the chagrin of their dates, the men were openly gawking at these voluptuous creatures, their eyes following them with unrestrained attraction and curiosity. And after we were seated, we couldn’t help but laugh at the antics of the waiters tripping over themselves to serve us resembling a vaudevillian act stolen from the fifties. But dinner was filled with good food, wine and sexual innuendos; and as the evening wore on, the nervous laughs and subtle gestures had given way to overt eroticism when I fed each of them the chocolate dipped strawberries. The sight of their lips around the mocha-red fruit as the sticky sap ran down the corners of the sultry mouths was as erotic as anything I had seen. At one point, Hanna took my hand and sucked my forefinger into her mouth swirling her tongue around it in an obvious sexual gesture, her violet-blue eyes bright with excitement, and I was thankful that our table was hidden away from the prying eyes of the others.
And while I looked around concerned at our lack of decorum they giggled like juveniles; conspiratorial naiads joined in a madding game. I can never express the feeling of anticipation I experienced waiting for the evening to unfold. I was determined to let them set the rules and play along no matter what they decided. But, there was a big part of me that was hoping we would end up in bed … an ultimate threesome; a ménage a trois with my sister and a woman I loved almost as much.
After dinner we sipped coffee laced with Sambuca, the anise flavored liqueur, and emboldened by its fiery warmth we continued our stilted game. We had decided to take a boat ride along the myriad cannels that crisscrossed the city and after listening to the suggestions made by the maître d’ we walked along the riverbank, clinging together, bracing against the damp coldness as the wind swirled drunkenly around us. There was a smell of rain in the air and just as Hanna was adjusting her shawl, a powerful gust blew it off her shoulders and sent it billowing up in the air like an untethered kite floating down the walkway towards the river.
“Ohhh … Milo! My shawl!” she said, laughing at the improbable scene.
We chased after it giggling like little kids as it blew higher and farther away and just as I thought it was lost, it got snagged in the braches of a tree. It had started to drizzle and it would only be moments before it really came down. Hanna looked up and made a quick decision, “It’s alright … let it go!”
“No! We can get it … help me up Milo.” Rita interjected.
“It’s not worth it … it doesn’t matter, Rita … please, let’s just go; it’s going to rain any minute and you’re going to spoil your dress …” Hanna tried to reason but she didn’t really know my little sister. Rita was as stubborn as a Moroccan Mule and once she decided on something, she was going to do it no matter what the consequence.
I knew better than to argue with Rita and helped her up onto my shoulders bracing myself as she stood balancing precariously while reaching up for the fluttering garment. I held onto her legs and felt her muscles flex as she grabbed the tenuous shawl and carefully disentangled it from the branches. Then like a cat she jumped down, landing softly, and without much fuss handed it over to Hanna. I had to smile at her dogged resolve and watched her slipping her high heels back on while Hanna shook out the wet stole, “Thank you …” she said softly. She was truly appreciative by the gesture. I could sense that Hanna liked my sister but it was hard to discern exactly what was going on between them.
There was a studied silence and then Rita said, “No, I have to thank you, Hanna … you are lovely and nice and I can never repay you for today and your kindness!” I could hear her voice begin to break as she struggled to be heard over the blustery wind, “I want both of you to be happy, especially Milo…” she continued, “and if my love for him is a problem for you, I’ll walk away …” she added, her eyes glittering with the tears she was fighting back.
There are moments in our lives that are beyond comprehension; moments construed by the collusion of timing and circumstance and this was one of those moments. It could have been the alcohol or the fact that the evening was unfolding in a manner we hadn’t anticipated but at that instant, they were alone – two kindred spirits tied together by the strings of a flimsy shawl, coming to terms with an unconventional reality that would deeply affect them both.
Hanna didn’t say anything but smiled and hugged Rita to her, holding her tightly. I had to control the urge to join them and stood back like a voyeur in a Tennessee Williams play waiting for the next scene to unfold when I felt the rain falling slowly like a dark curtain closing on this Bohemian scene.
She kissed my sister on her cheek and wiped the tears mingling with the ran which streaked gently down her face then added, “Let’s go back to the hotel …” and prompted by this auspicious gesture, the skies opened up and it began to pour.
We ran, holding hands drenched by the sudden downpour, laughing at the incongruence of the doorman running out to shield us with his tiny umbrella. But it wasn’t until we walked through the lobby that I realized that you could literally see through Hanna’s wet dress. Her breasts glistened wetly through the translucence of the soggy silk; her nipples were hard and pointed from the excitement and the cold. I quickly wrapped my jacket around her and Rita came up from behind to shield her from the curious stares. I hugged her to me and Rita walked protectively on the other side of her as we made our way up the elevator and to our room. We were a sight; street urchins wet to the bone.
I turned up the heat and called Room Service and ordered some hot chocolate and Amaretto while the girls headed for the bathroom. I could hear their giggles and squeals and my curiosity piqued; I had to know what was going on so I opened the door and was greeted by the incredible sight of their bodies in a state of undress and then I was pelted by a sundry of projectiles, first a wet blouse which was then followed by other various pieces of clothing. And then I heard, “Get out! Out! No boys allowed! Girls only … for the Tenth Street Bitches!” followed by peals of laughter. I shook my head and returned to the bedroom and changed out of my wet clothes. I pushed my hair back and waited for the hot chocolate and whatever it was that they had planned for me.
I was sitting on the couch watching the news my mind distracted by the uncertainty of the evening, my body fomenting with thoughts of the erotic possibilities. And even before they joined me I could sense the transmutation of the energy; a tense anticipation like the uneasy calm before a raging storm. I sat sipping the hot chocolate laced with Amaretto trying to prepare myself when Rita came out of the bathroom combing her hair. She was wearing my favorite camisole; a faded pink, see-through cotton nightie that barely covered her bikini panties. Her legs were long and shapely; sculpted from the years of playing Volleyball and gleamed enticingly in the iridescent light. My eyes were drawn to ripeness of her full, perky breasts and the sensual outline of her nipples and I felt myself reacting to her.
She walked over and sat on the floor between my legs, her back resting against the heel of the sofa, “That smells so good … what are you drinking?” she asked, sniffing at the alluring smell of chocolate and almond liqueur lingering in the air.
I didn’t answer but instead gave her the cup and took the brush from her and while she sipped the hot coco, I brushed her tresses gently, watching the bristles raking through the dense wet layers. Her hair was her defining feature and it never ceased to amaze me. It was incredibly thick and velvety with light, reddish-gold highlights mixed in with the deep auburn which looked darker in the diffused light. I had never met a woman with thicker or more sensational hair.
After a while I put the brush down on the side table and began massaging the muscles of her neck, firmly kneading the knots in her taut ligaments. She sighed and bent her head forwards as I worked the area around her neck and shoulders.
“Mmmm, that feels so good, Milo …” she murmured and added, “Give me a back rub, baby …”
“Okay … let’s get you on the bed.” I replied.
I helped her up and holding hands we stepped over to the king-sized bed which was in the center of the large room, a few feet from the sofa and before lying down she pecked me gently on the lips offering shyly, “I love you so much, Milo … this evening is for you …”
She lay face down while I straddled her thighs, my cock beginning to harden and press against the crack of her panties. Her eyes were hooded and I saw her smile, it was that secret smile, titillating in the knowledge that she could excite me so easily. I leaned forward and began working on her Trapezius muscles using my thumbs to dig in and push upwards with just enough pressure to abate the pain and make it pleasurable. My cock was now flagrantly rubbing against her ass as I continued to work her shoulders and back enjoying the surreptitious tingling brought on by our incestuous frottage.
“Mmmm… lower, baby, ohhh …” she whispered, her breath hissing as I rocked forward on her ass.
I tried getting my hand under her nightdress but that proved to be a challenge so I pushed the hem up and began gathering the edge trying to take it off of her but the front was trapped against her chest. I wanted her naked so I got up and stood by the bedside while she raised herself and lifted her arms in quiet acquiescence as I tugged the intrusive garment off of her. My sister was now nude except for her panties. Her breasts formed perfect mounds with almost no sag to them and I loved the way they jiggled enticingly like extra-firm Jello when she walked or moved. There was a faint splattering of freckles which worked outwards from her pink areoles fading completely at the base near her sternum. Out of the corner of my eyes I could see Hanna. She was wrapped in towel and was going from room to room dimming the lights before coming over to us. She had turned off the TV and turned up the music; the soft strains of light jazz filling the desultory ambience of the darkened suite. My sister looked up through hooded eyes, her expression, a mottled salmagundi of anticipation, nervousness and excitement, then sighing she lay back stretching sensuously waiting for her massage.
I straddled my sister’s thighs again kneading her back and shoulders, as Hanna eased herself onto the bed. She had discarded the towel and was naked; her body glistening in the tawny haze of the filtered light, the tantalizing shadows dancing like anagrams across her face. She was kneeling next to me, her eyes brighter than I had ever seen it, sparkling like brilliant violet pools of variegated Lapis Lazuli as she tugged my sister panties down and away from her. She then straightened up and kissed me, our hands exploring blindly unable to resist the fleshy desires coursing stridently through us resonating within our pounding heartbeats building to the deafening crescendo of strident cymbals. Then we fell, like crowning leaves in autumn’s twilight, tumbling ever so slowly beside my sister. I could feel Rita sliding over me, joining in the tangled mesh of legs and arms twisted together in a human amalgamate of writhing flesh. None of us had ever indulged in a threesome before so this was virgin territory in the metamorphosis of our sexual alliance.
I wanted to savor the experience; take in every moment and relish the feelings streaming through me but I found myself under the two women, on my back being suffocated by the urgency of their needs. There must have been a sense of feminine competition as they fought for access to my mouth. I wasn’t sure who was kissing me just that there was always a hungry mouth searching for mine, relentless in its passion, a never ending wetness of tongues swirling into my mouth. After a while, I felt lips searing along my body, fingers and hands rubbing me all over until someone tugged at the drawstrings of my pajamas, pulling the flimsy trousers off. I was now naked like them, a thorn among the roses, drunk from the heady brew of their concupiscent passion.
I felt my cock being sucked into the moist warmth of a soft mouth and was sure it was Rita knowing her proclivity for fellatio but when I glanced down I saw Hanna, her golden head bobbing sensuously over my groin. She held me with one hand while her other wandered gently over my abdomen, searching downwards until she reached Rita’s thighs. Gone were the boundaries, physical and emotional, blurred by the dehiscence of passion unraveling my senses and I was quickly overrun by the carnal songs of these beautiful Sirens. My sister’s tongue swirled in my mouth, twisting and sliding like a snake sucking me wetly into her. I could feel her rasping breath against my face and the urgency of her body as she rubbed herself against my leg and I watched with abject fascination as Hanna’s hand slipped inside Rita’s thighs stroking her in an ambidextrous act of eroticism.
I heard Rita moan, “Oh God … Milo …”
“It’s okay, baby, it is okay …” I said, my voice hoarse and trembling with unbridled lust.
Hanna slid over to Rita and kissed her legs starting near the knees and licking lewdly at her inner thighs. I felt my sister tense up not fully comfortable with the intimate contact from another woman but driven by her fleshy needs she rolled over onto her back spreading her legs, her eyes closed while I edged upwards pushing my cock towards her mouth. I could see the silky thread of precum smudging lewdly as my throbbing stem slid along the contours of her face. She reached up guiding me into the moist sanctuary of her mouth and I felt the incredible sensations like tiny shock waves coursing through me as she sucked the throbbing root deeper into her while her tongue swirled around the ridge of the bloated head. I could feel myself shuddering with pleasure, thrilling to the soft moans of the two women blending like broken riffs in harmonious ‘a cappella’. Hanna was nestled between my sister’s thighs, bathing her with her tongue, licking the swollen petals of her labial flower pushing her fingers into the wetness of my sister gulping canal mewling softly in response to her servile moans. And within the commotion of the writhing bodies, there was an overwhelming of our senses … the enticing bouquet of musky female odor filled my nostrils, the touch and feel of bodies slithering against one another, the concerto of grunts and moans and whimpers accompanied by the tenuous rustle of sheets resonated over the soft music playing in the background. We shifted from position to position; each one lost in the newness of the experience trying to gain and give pleasure until we settled into an oral daisy-chain with my sister sucking me; my face buried in between Hanna’s thighs while she feasted on Rita’s auburn patch.
I could feel Hanna climax against my tongue several times; small orgasms like little ripples washing over her golden body, flooding my mouth with her gelatinous nectar. I loved the taste of her; sweet and tangy, and lapped her from the bottom of her slit right to the top making sure to suck on her little pleasure node. They were so different. Hanna had the capacity experience several different types of orgasms. Some were less intense making her feel nice and tingly (is how she described it) while others were “deep” where her whole body was washed over in waves of intense pleasure. I recalled asking her once what it had felt like and her vivid explanation of how her mind would shut down and “the rockets go off in my head” has remained with me!
Rita, on the other hand, was quick to respond especially to oral stimulation and her climaxes were spectacular … her entire being, face and all, would be wracked in ecstasy accompanied by a crimson flush which would spread from her chest up to her cheeks. Her orgasms seemed to emanate from a dark recess buried deep within her; a bundled, bubbling nerve-center rooted in her somatic vaginal core ripping through her peripheral nervous system to her extremities causing her to jerk and thrash uncontrollably. She had the capacity to synapse rapidly and intensely over and over again. I used to love to watch her cum; her body twisting and bucking in the throes of pleasure, her face beatific in its carnal contortions. It never ceased to arouse me driving me to take her again and again until there was nothing left and enervated we would doze off to sleep.
The bed was trembling and it was because Rita was writhing uncontrollably. Every now and then I would raise myself to watch Hanna pleasure my sister who was lost in her own erotic world and when the feelings got too intense, she would pull me out of her mouth and bite down on her bottom lip, her head rolling from side to side, her dense hair lashing wildly like streaming scenes from a choreographed X-rated video; images burnt indelibly into my brain, ones I can never forget.
Finally Hanna looked up at me and whispered, “Fuck me, Milo … please … fuck me …”
I tore myself away from my sister’s hungry mouth while Hanna moved up rolling over onto her back and spread her thighs invitingly. She had shaved herself clean displaying the large lips of her swollen labia; succulent in its rawness, puffy and bursting with her desire. And as I mounted this auriferous naiad, pushing my cock into her ravenous cunt I saw Rita watching us with bright, luminous eyes; playing with herself, squeezing her breasts, tweaking her nipples, her fingers buried deep inside her swollen twat.
“Shag her, darling … fuck her …” she whispered as her hips rocked against her fingers.
And though I was fucking Hanna, it was my sister who continued to intrigue me, drawn to the strains of her whispered promises and engulfed by the aura of her incestuous mist our eyes met and locked and the years of sensual exploration enveloped my addled brain. She moved over and began licking my face, neck and down towards my hand; sucking my fingers, her pouting mouth simulating her predilection driving me closer to the edge … I have no way of describing the emotions and sensations coursing through me except to say that I have never before or since been as sexually aroused as I was then.
My cock felt harder than a steel sword as it repeatedly plunged into the seeping slit of this aurulent slave. I felt Hanna shudder as she began to crest the waves of her orgasm, her hips pushing back forcefully as I thrust into her.
“Harder, Milo, harder … Oh, God … fuck me, baby, don’t stop … yes, yes … I’m close …”
And as I increased the tempo, our bodies slapping crassly against each other, her orgasm peaked, her cunt convulsing wetly as she pulled me deep, grinding her pelvis against me with her fingers between us; rubbing frenetically at her clit.
“Ohhhh … ummmmm, yes, yes, yeeeeeeessss … baby … oh, fuck … fuck …” She babbled incoherently as her climax washed over her in the chaos of raging riptides, her body jerking like the uncoordinated spasms of a dying swan.
I slowed myself down, lying on top of Hanna, pressed into her enjoying the constrictions of her pulsing cunt as she descended from the heights of her orgasm.
Rita was kneading Hanna’s breasts while she kissed me, her lips felt strangely cold while her breath was hot against my face.
“Don’t cum in her, baby … it’s for me … I want it …” she murmured.
I was close to cumming but overcome with lust for my sister, I moved over to her. I pushed her down and felt her fingers guide my throbbing, slimy cock into her.
“Yes … take me, darling brother … now …”
She was very wet and with my first thrust I felt myself spreading her slickly tight cunt until I bottomed out, our crotches mashed together fused by the flames of incestuous passion. I felt her hips beginning to undulate, fucking me back as I began to piston into her. It didn’t take long before I felt the tingling onslaught of pleasure spreading from the tip of my cock racing through the network of my nerves. As much as I wanted to I couldn’t hold back and just as I spewed my sperm into my sister’s belly, thrusting frenetically, I heard Hanna’s whispered moan: “Fuck her, Milo, fuck your little sister … cum in her … it’s so hot … good, yes …” and then she was over us, her hands stroking and squeezing, her fingers searching wildly while I lay fused to my sister unable to free myself from the sordid snare of her steely embrace. Brother and Sister; Lover and Friend … We are the twisted branches of the Aegean Vine, our stems fused together by nature’s anomalous fire; Spirits whose flowers bloom only when sipping from the forbidden chalice filled with the incestuous nectar draining from our wounded souls. Iridescent beings who like Satin Butterflies search for the hidden sanctuary within the mystical Gardens of a lost Eden.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/incest/the-satin-butterfly-sirens-in-amsterdam.aspx">The Satin Butterfly: Sirens in Amsterdam</a>