Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 21

Our eyes locked, an electric shock of mutual realization lighting an explosive fire of lust. Then he heard a sound behind him, turned, and leapt a foot in the air. “RICK!!! What the fuck are you doing here?!!”

“Wanking, of course,” I replied calmly. “What the fuck does it look like.”

My younger brother Rick was sat in what had become his regular corner, behind the door, the darkest, dingiest corner of the room. He wore a pair of my cotton panties, crusted with several cum-stain patches, and with the gusset peeled aside, his dick spilled out of the side and into his pumping fist. We had also made him wear one of my bras on this occasion, not because of any erotic aspect, but just because we found it fucking hilarious. To be honest, we didn’t do it very often, partly because it stretched and distorted the bra to a point where it was unusable from then on, but the combination of the feminine cloth stretched around his male torso and his expression of humiliation above it would just have us in stitches.

Right now, his expression was one of despair combined with desperate need. Despite now being the focus of attention in the room, his fist did not stop pumping. He had been pleasuring himself continuously for a remarkably long time now, but such was our control over our slave that we knew he would not cum until we gave him permission.

Eventually, one or both of us would usually have pity on him and get him off, following which he would slink off to his room, often with some arbitrary order from us ringing in his ears: “You are not allowed to clean that jizz off your hand until tomorrow morning, you hear?” “Give me those panties! You will go naked for the next 2 hours.” “How dare you stand up?! Get back on your knees and crawl to your room.” I think the despair might have come partly from the realization that this degradation was not dampening his arousal but enhancing it. He was becoming his mistresses’ submissive little bitch, and he knew it.

But right now, I was in a magnanimous mood. “I think our little slave deserves a reward for good behaviour.

How about you, Kirsty?”

Kirsty pretended to think about it. “Well, he has done everything we ordered without fail. And now that I have had one brother, I’d like to try the other.” She turned, faced away from Ricky, and kissed me deeply, her tongue massaging mine. As she did so, she pulled me into the center of the room, so that we were both kneeling, embraced, our breasts pressed together.

Then she turned to look over her shoulder. “Well come on, kid. Take off the bra, get over here and fill my cunt!”

It was the moment he had been waiting for, the moment we had teased and denied him for so long. He was so eager that I think he missed the first time, leaping at Kirsty’s back and leaving his wang sticking out between her upper thighs. I saw the bell-end protrude, then withdraw, and then heard the longest, most satisfied groan as it entered the hot young love tunnel it yearned for. For several moments, he rested like that, his cheek resting on the blonde girl’s shoulder blade and her inner depths embracing his penis. Then ever so slowly, he pulled back and then thrust again, as if every centimetre of penetration was an experience to be individually savoured. In front of him, his paramour’s tongue continued to grapple and press on his sister’s.

A small part of my brain was dimly aware of Simon’s continued presence, and tried to process how to integrate him, but there was little capacity to think beyond the pulsing, raw erotic power of the three-way triste already in progress. Kirsty broke off to plant delicate, sizzling, nuzzling kisses on my sensitive neck as her fingers worked on my even more sensitive cunt.

Then something else was there at my opening, warm meat cleaving my pussy lips, and hot male breath on my ear. That was when I realized that Kirsty had taken care of it. Her fingers had not just been massaging my labia, but spreading it wide to view invitingly from behind, while her lips on my neck had given her freedom to beckon with her eyes. I knew that sexually charged gaze well, but it was still a surprise and delight that it was all the convincing Simon needed to give in all resistance and sample the incestuous delights of his little sis’ tight vagina.
And so the four-way tableau of coupled young bodies was complete. Amid the pushing of two eager male pelvises, it became difficult to maintain the lip-lock without teeth smashing against each other, but our fingers intertwined and our eyes were fixed on the feminine gaze only an inch away, feeding on the lust and arousal we both found reflected there. I only wished she were my sister biologically as much as she felt emotionally, to make the sinful, incestuous symmetry complete.

Hips thrust, cocks pistoned, pussies stretched to welcome them. As we all sweated with the joyful exertion of it, the room permeated with the spicy aroma of fresh perspiration, and there yet another reminder of our taboo-breaking came into play, for the aroma had that tingly familiar overtone. Even if we don’t realize it most of the time, our personal aromas are always there, and here the experiences of intense, passionate fucking were blended with smells that had surrounded me every day since birth. On my tongue was the now-familiar taste of Kirsty’s lips, garnished with the added flavour of my own aroused vagina. Touch, taste, smell, sight, every sense was alive with the insistent drive of a sister, two brothers and another sex-crazed teen goddess intertwined in four-way sexual congress.