“You were just staring right at her ass,” I giggle, “and it wasn’t a passing glance either.”

“N-n-no I wasn’t!” Tom stammers.

“Oh, Tom,” I smile, and lean forward just a bit more, “you said I was a slut, and you were right. I’m not good at math, science or history, but I’m a fucking PHD in men. I know what they want just by the look in their eyes, and your eyes were practically reflecting Laurie’s ass.”

Tom stares dumfounded at me for a second. Then he puts his hands into his lap, and looks down at them in embarrassment.

“Please don’t say anything,” he mutters, “she’s all I’ve got.”

“Oh, I’m going to do more than say something,” I smirk, and scooch into the chair next to him, “I’m going to help you fuck her.”

Now would probably be a good time to pause the conversation and describe Laurie to you. I bet you thought I’d be the subject of this story’s perversions, and I’ll still play my part, but centerstage is going to be The Baker Sibling’s Taboo Extravaganza. But I digress; Laurie looks a lot like Tom, if you take out the lanky awkwardness and replace it with seventeen-year-old jailbait. Brown, curly hair flows from her head in a delightful coil of bouncing strands, and a set of big, blue eyes, luscious lips, high cheekbones, a cleft chin, and a cut jawline structure her face. She’s about an inch taller than me, maybe five-seven, but doesn’t bare the curves I have. Her neck is long and elegant, her shoulders are narrow and dainty, her arms are-yadda, yadda, yadda; let’s talk about her tits and ass. Laurie has a cute set of breasts, maybe b-cups, but they fill out her chest nicely and perk like they should. Her ass is well-shaped, and perches nicely atop her thighs, but it doesn’t bare the vulgar suppleness of my own (if I do say so myself). It looks good in a pair of leggings, and jiggles when she walks, but more importantly, it’s proportional to the rest of her frame. Laurie wouldn’t best be described as ‘skinny,’ more like ‘athletic.’ Think the body type of female soccer players, and you’ll get the picture. Anyway, I believe Tom was about to yell in shock.

“What?!” Tom yells in shock.

“Be quiet, Tommy,” I giggle, “or you’ll ruin the whole thing.”

“You’re not going to tell her a fucking thing!” Tom hisses, “I’ll-I’ll-I’ll-”

“You’ll-you’ll-you’ll-” I stammer back mockingly, “you’ll what? What are you going to do?”

“I’ll kill you.” Tom says, and grabs the steak knife from the cutlery block. He holds out the blade threateningly, and I notice that it’s not shaking in the least.

“What are you going to do with that?” I smirk, and shift my body closer to him.

“Say you had a breakdown,” Tom whispers, his voice dead-even, “that you made a lunge for me with the chef’s knife. People would believe it; you’re an ostracized whore with no friends except for Laurie; people would believe you went off the rails.”

My smile widens and I lean closer, until our faces are just inches apart. My breasts press against his chest and my hand moves toward his wrist.

“You don’t have the balls,” I whisper, “you wouldn’t hurt a fl-”

The cold blade presses against my neck, and Tom twists it until the point pierces the skin. I feel a drop of blood leak from the spot and run down my cleavage. My breath stops short, and my hand ceases it’s advance toward Tom’s wrist. He’s looking at me levelly, without a hint of doubt in his steely, blue eyes. He’s not fucking around; he’ll actually fucking do it. And reader, it turns me on like nothing ever has.

“Wow,” I whisper, “you really would do it, wouldn’t you?”

Tom doesn’t answer, he just keeps the knife pressed to my throat, and stares daggers into me. His threatening regard is seeped with a cold determination that leaves me feeling helpless and at his mercy. A shudder runs through me as I revel in my vulnerability. A vacant ache permeates from my depths, and compels my body to leak with readiness between my thighs.

“You can put the knife down,” I say softly, “I won’t tell her.”

“I don’t believe you.” Tom says.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, my voice shaking with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

“I’m thinking about it.” Tom responds, his voice dead and void of emotion, his hand steady and pressing threateningly. It occurs to me that Tom might be a bonafide ‘Dexter Morgan’ psychopath, and that I might be playing a very dangerous game right now. I just hope he wants to lose his virginity more than his murder cherry.

“Tom,” I whisper, my voice dripping with need, “fuck me.”

I never knew this about myself. I never knew there was a cold-blooded animal living beneath the guise of nervous adolescence. But here he was, keeping my knife steady, calming my nerves and filling me with singular focus. I could do it. I could just push the knife three inches forward, and that would be it. Eleanor is scared, but not terrified. No, she looks…excited; interesting. It’s not a secret that Eleanor takes meds for some kind of disorder (God only knows what), and she certainly exhibits a dangerous level of thrill-seeking behavior. Maybe, I could just say she finally went off the rails and slit her own-

“Tom,” she whispers, interrupting my train of thought; her green eyes staring, her red lips quivering, “fuck me.”

The cold-blooded killer inside me meets his hot-blooded counterpart. They gage each other, hash out terms, and then decide on a course of action. I draw the knife gently down Eleanor’s neck, and let the blade rest between her breasts. She shudders in excitement, her lips curl in a hungry smile, and her eyes stare with wanton lust. I bring the knife down, and cut through the pink tank top that constrains her bulging bust. The blade slices through her bra, and her pale tits burst from their prison in a jiggle. She leans forward, cautiously moving, letting the point of the knife slide down her flat abdomen and to the waist band of her leggings. She slowly climbs on my lap and straddles me, and then begins delicately undoing my belt. I slice through her waistband, and she spreads her legs, tearing the cut down the crotch of her leggings until her white panties are exposed. There’s a noticeable dark spot deep in her crotch, and I know that she’s not faking her desire. I put the knife down on the table, and she unzips my fly. Her cool, thin fingers wrap around my throbbing cock, and she sighs and broadens her smile.

“I want you to fuck me like you want to kill me,” she whispers, “don’t be nice, Tommy-boy.”

“I won’t be.”

I grab her by the throat and push her backwards on the table. She cries out in delight and spreads her legs further, tearing what’s left of her leggings all the way down her crotch. Her pelvis still presses against my lap, and it forces her back into an uncomfortable, concave arch. I stand up, bringing her pelvis with me, and then drive my hand under her waistband. My fingers press to the moist, tender flesh of her pussy, and I slide the middle and ring inside. Her eyes flash wide open, and her red lips part to yield a moan. Her thighs press together and grind with need around my invading wrist. I push my thumb against her clit and curl my fingers upward inside her. I rub my pinching digits; my fingers pressing against her inner wall, my thumb toying with her erogenous bump. She bites her lower lip and gyrates her hips in pleasure. Moans seep from her whorish mouth, and she stares at me with an expression that drives me mad: vulnerability. She’s under my control, and I can do whatever I want to her. She wants me to do whatever I want to her.

I take my fingers out, press my tip to her frothing slit, and push all the way in. Eleanor digs the back of her head into the table, her neck striates with tendons, and her upper-back lifts in the air. An exerted growl flows from her lips, and she flexes her vaginal muscles around me. I take a moment to savor the wet, tight heat of her pussy clenching about my cock, and then I grab her hips, pull out to the tip, and ram into her all the way. This time she cries out, and I press my palm roughly against her mouth to shut her the fuck up. She licks my hand in defiant lechery, and I squeeze one of her breasts in retaliation. The supple flesh protrudes around my fingers, and the nipple stands firm against my thumb. Her combative regard falters, and her submissive self takes over. She moans again, and guides my thumb and finger to pinch her. I twist her nipple and pull it from her body, and she squeals a muffled tone of approval.

I thrust again, and again and again, always pulling out to the head, and then driving until my balls slap against her fat ass. Her body lurches back and forth across the table, her breasts jiggle to the beat of my drives, her thighs ripple with the impact of my lust. Her eyes bare nothing but submissive desire, and I stare into them with my domineering possessiveness. She’s mine, my toy, my little slut.

“You’re a fucking whore, you know that?” I sneer at her as her voice rises higher and higher around my hand, “Nobody ever liked you, Ellie; they just wanted easy pussy.”

Eleanor cries something out from under my hand, but I just squeeze her cheeks harder.

“You’re the school cum-dumpster, and now I finally get my turn,” I grin as she screams out in pleasure from my rapidly-driving cock, “you should get a tramp stamp on your back that just says ‘take a number.’”

Eleanor may or may not be registering what I’m saying. Her eyes are starting to roll back in her head, and her jaw is slackening. I take my hand off her mouth and listen to the sweet chorus of her desperate, moaning breaths. They’re growing faster and shorter, until they’re nothing but pants mixing with squeals. I grab her other breast and pinch the free nipple. I pull back with both hands, and watch as the supple, jiggling flesh stretches to conical points. Her chest lifts forward with my pull, and her head drives harder into the table. A scream of delight erupts from her mouth, but I don’t care enough to silence it. I fuck her faster and faster, harder and harder, until our pelvises are smacking together in fury of slapping blasts, and the table is shaking dangerously. Her pussy is clenching and twitching with sporadic convulsions, and her voice is rising to a near-constant stream of ecstasy. I growl and plow into her harder and harder, not caring if I’m hurting her, but hoping I am. My cock drives through her tight wetness; parting her inner resistances and breaking her in. She’s thrashing now; her shoulders shimmying in a possessed dance, her hips gyrating, her abdomen flexing. Her screams are rough and exerted, as though she’s in the midst of great physical strain. I feel her convulsions rise to a churning torrent inside her, and I thrust one last time. Her entire back arches from the table, her shoulders pin back, and her thighs lock around my hips. A single, breathless sound passes her gaping lips, and then she squirts all over me. I blow inside her with a cathartic roar, and collapse on top of her as she finally finds her voice. She screams out her euphoria, and digs her nails into my back as she’s taken by it. I drive the last bit of myself into her, and her scream subsides to a whimper. We breathe heavily on the table for a moment, and then look into each other’s eyes.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, “Tom, that was the best I’ve ever-”

I kiss her deeply. My lips push against the red outline of her mouth, and my tongue slides into it. She locks tongues with me, and glides a hand into the curls of my hair. I relish the feeling of her sweating, hot body pressing against my own, and the needful way she kisses me, and then I part.

“That still needs a little bit of work,” she giggles, “but Tom, you fuck like a champ.”

“Sorry I said those things about you,” I smile bashfully, “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t you ever fucking apologize to me!” she hisses, and grabs my jaw, “That weak little boy that says ‘sorry’ over everything is gone. I want the crazy motherfucker who almost killed me.”

“Crazy motherfucker it is.” I grin, and kiss her again. This time, I don’t kiss her gently; I kiss her like I fucked her. My lips feed greedily upon hers, and my tongue drives hedonistically into her mouth. She wrestles with it, and loses, and I placate what’s left of her with my domineering lust. When I part from her, her lips are still open, and her eyes are closed in bliss.

“Much better,” she whispers, and licks her lips, “much, much better.”

“Clean it off.” I demand as I pull out of her. My cum dribbles from her desecrated slit, runs along her taint and pools in the puckered rim of her asshole. She smiles up at me and purrs like a cat while she gets to her knees on the table. She lowers her head, wraps her luscious, red lips about me, and takes my entire length down her throat. She gags when she gets to my base, looks up at me with those bright, green eyes, and swallows. I groan and pet her scarlet hair as she cleans me in one suck, from base to tip. Her lips free my cock with a satisfied smack, and she leaves me with a parting kiss on its head.

“So,” she smiles coyly, “what are we going to do about your little sister?”

“I told you,” I growl, “we’re not doing anything.”

“Yes, we are,” she giggles, “you and I are going to do everything to her. I thought you were a cold-blooded killer, Tom? Take what you want; let’s share your sister between us.”

“I can still kill you.”

“DNA evidence everywhere, Tommy-boy,” she smirks, and licks a fingertip covered in my cum, “your alibi wouldn’t really work too well for you.”

“I’m not ruining my relationship with my sister by trying to fuck her,” I growl, “there’s not a single chance in hell Laurie would go for it.”

“Tom, I know Laurie in ways you don’t.” Eleanor whispers to me as she presses her body against mine, “I’ve seen her at parties, and I’ve seen her with boys. She withers away in the presence of a controlling man; she can’t help herself. And you, my dear,” Eleanor smiles as her hands clasp about my cock, “are a very controlling man.”

“Why do you want to this happen so bad?” I ask her.

“Because I’m fucked up,” she smirks, “and I want to see good, socially-adjusted people demean themselves and come down to my level. You’re fucked up too, Tom; just as fucked up as me. I’ll warm up Laurie for you, and then you come in and take her.”

“Rape her?!” I growl.

“Initially, maybe,” Eleanor smiles, “but when we’re done with her, she’ll be begging for more. C’mon, boyfriend; let’s turn your precious, sweet, little sister into our whore.”

I didn’t actually expect everything to work out perfectly between Eleanor and Tom, but I had hoped something would happen. But no, they just reverted to their lowest selves, and shit all over my plan. Fucking Tom; how hard is it to fuck Eleanor O’Reilly?

Gojira’s heavy anthem Backbone blasts in my earbuds as I try to study. Tom could use a fucking backbone. I nod my head to the driving rhythm and then stop when I see a blur of scarlet enter my field of vision. Eleanor’s head pops out from the side of the doorframe. She motions with one hand for me to take out my earbuds, and I begrudgingly remove only one.

“Hey, Laurie?” she says, almost bashfully.

“What?” I shoot back, my voice full of venom.

“I need new clothes.” She smiles.

“Why?”

“Because,” she says and steps into the doorframe, “your brother fucking ruined mine.”

Eleanor’s tank top has been cut down the middle, her bra is sliced in two, and the crotch of her leggings is torn past her ass crack, exposing her wrinkled, soaked panties to me. Tom had done it; he’d actually fucking done it!

“Oh-my-god!” I squeal, “Oh my god, Ellie; you have to tell me everything! Come in here!”

Eleanor walks through the door and sits next to me on the bed. I sit upright and paw through my drawers for something that will fit her curves.

“So,” I smile to her, “give me the details.”

“Do you really want to hear about your brother?” Eleanor laughs, “That’s kind of fucked-up, Laurie.”

“Don’t be gross,” I giggle, and toss a t-shirt over her face, “I just want to know how he did.”

“Well,” Eleanor says as she pulls the shirt off her face, “he was rough.”

“I can see that,” I laugh, looking at her destroyed clothes, “did he use scissors or something?”

“A knife.” Eleanor responds.

“A knife?!” I exclaim, “That’s fucking kinky.”

“He was so…aggressive,” Eleanor says, almost moaning as she recalls the affair, “like a switch went off in his head, and all of the sudden, he was a different boy…a different man.”

“Did he take control?” I ask, throwing her a pair of leggings, “Was he all possessive and dominating?”

“Yessss,” Eleanor hisses, “he just…cut my clothes off and took me on the table. He called me a whore, called me the school cum-dumpster, and ravaged me like I’d never been before. Mmm, Laurie; he was so fucking good!”

The tone of Eleanor’s voice worries me slightly. I turn around and see that she hasn’t put on a single piece of clothing. In fact, she has her panties down her thighs and is now touching herself. Three fingers slide to the knuckles inside her, and my brother’s cum leaks out between them. What the fuck.

“Ellie, what the fuck are you doing?” I ask levelly.

“What does it look like?” she giggles, spreading her legs wide for me to see, “I’m playing with your brother’s cum.”

“Can you…not?” I ask, wondering what the fuck is going on with her. Eleanor is a slut, there’s no doubt about that, but this is just fucking bizarre.

“Hmm,” Eleanor smiles, “I don’t think I can.”

She takes a single index finger from her pussy, and places it between her lips. She looks me right in the eyes as she slowly, seductively, sucks my brother’s cum from her finger.

“He’s delicious,” she whispers, “you should try some.”

“Oooookaaaay…” I say, stepping back from her, “you guys obviously did drugs. I’ll just…get you some water and let you sleep in my bed tonight.”

“Won’t you join me?” she asks, her hand running through her red, trimmed mound, “We can do that thing we did sophomore year. Remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember not liking it,” I say, grabbing my water bottle and walking cautiously to her, “now I know pussy just isn’t for me.”

“Give it another chance,” she moans, and spreads her pussy wide with a two-fingered ‘v,’ “I want you to taste him.”

“Ellie,” I say, and hand her the water bottle, “you just need to get some rest-”

Eleanor grabs my outstretched arm and throws me on the bed. I flail for a second, and then land on my stomach.

“Ellie, what the fuck are you-”

She pushes my face into the pillow and crams her hand into my leggings. I scream as I feel her fingers sliding between my ass crack. I push my palms into the mattress and drive upward, but she quickly straddles my lower back and forces me back down. I whip my head around and stare my anger and terror into her eyes, but she just smiles back, and pushes her fingers further through the crease of my ass.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” she smiles sadly, “but I need you to do this for me.”

I lash my hand out, but she’s too far away. I twist against her weight, but it’s no use. I’m pinned on my stomach, and at her mercy.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I scream, “What fucking drugs did you two take?!”

“We didn’t do any drugs,” she smiles, “I’m sober. Just relax, Laurie; I’ll take care of you.”

Her fingers slink past my asshole, and then tease it with a circling tip. My eyes widen in terror, and I trash uselessly against her.

“Tom!” I scream, “Tom, help me! She’s raping me! She’s raping me!”

“Tom knows,” Eleanor giggles, all of her fingers now circling the rim of my ass, “he’s waiting for you to get nice and ready for him.”

“What?!” I scream.

“Your brother wants to fuck you, Laurie,” Eleanor laughs, “and I’m going to convince you to do it.”

And with that, Eleanor pushes three fingers into my asshole. I screech into the pillow as I feel my rim stretch wide. She digs deeper and deeper, and then rests her raping digits against the wall of my anus.

“Are you a virgin here?” Eleanor muses, “I thought you would have let Ryan back here at least once, but you’re so tight. Tom’s going to fuck you here, Laurie, and he is packing heat, so I’ll need to loosen you up first.”

“Eleanor, stop!” I scream, now crying tears of pain, “Please!”

“I love you too much to stop, Laurie,” Eleanor smiles, “you’ve stuck with me through everything, even when everyone else abandoned me. Now, I’m going to help you through this; it will make us closer than ever.”

“You’re fucking insane!” I whisper, “Ellie; you need help!”

“Maybe,” Eleanor moans as she pushes her fingers deeper, “or maybe, I just need friends who are as fucked-up as I am.”

I grit my teeth and growl in strain as knuckle after knuckle is forced deep inside me. She lubricates my sodomy with my own brother’s cum, and I can feel his hot seed melting into my tender inner flesh. She withdraws slowly, letting my asshole pop in constriction about each knuckle, and then she pushes in again, this time adding another finger. The pain slowly recedes as I adjust to the girth of her four fingers, and I stop thrashing under her weight. It’s uncomfortable for a while, and though I squirm in protest, my defiance is noticeably dispirited. And then…then it starts to feel good. A deep, filling pressure expands in my tightest hole, and sends unfamiliar, new, tingles deep into my colon. The feeling is so invasive, so wrong, and yet, so good. A whimper brushes past my lips, and I clasp my hand over my mouth before it turns to a moan.

“Do you like it?” Eleanor asks, genuine hope in her voice, “I like having one in each, myself. I practice every night; mostly in the mirror, but sometimes for strangers on the internet. They don’t know they’re breaking the law, and it turns me on to watch them get off to a seventeen year old whore like me.”

Slowly, gently, Eleanor stretches my rim wide open. I stop squirming beneath her, and just murmur tones of protest under my breath. In and out, in and out; she pushes her entire fist into me, and then withdraws, pulling out some of my pink, inner flesh with each retreat. I hum a single, desperate tone as I clench my jaw and tighten my eyes. I’m trying to hold back the sound that wants to come out, trying with all my might. Eleanor pulls out, pinches her fingers together, and then pushes in all the way to the wrist. My rim screeches with tortuous delight, and I can’t help myself. I cry out into the pillow and sob with want.

“Deeper!” I scream. Eleanor laughs merrily, and obliges.

“I thought you might like it back here,” Eleanor coos, her other hand gently massaging my lower back, “but let me tell you, dearest friend: a cock is much better than my hand. Should I get Tom in here?”

“No!” I scream, but I can’t stop the moan from mixing with it.

“Tom,” Eleanor calls over her shoulder, “she’s ready for you!”

I hear the approaching footsteps of my older brother. Now, I do try to get free. I thrash and squirm beneath Eleanor with all my might, but she just shifts her weight on top of me and subdues me at every turn, all the while sinking her wonderful hand deeper and deeper into my newfound erogenous zone. Tom walks into the doorframe, staring at me, wearing nothing at all. He’s huge. It’s throbbing and curved upward in anticipation, and I reel back in terror and arousal. The latter feeling alarms me; I can’t want my brother, can I?

“Hey, Laurie,” Tom smiles with uncharacteristic confidence, “nice to see you’ve been getting along with my new girlfriend.”

“She was my friend before we were ever a thing,” Eleanor smirks at Tom, “come see what I’ve done to her for you.”

I stare over my shoulder in horror as Tom kneels between my legs on the bed, and looks at the hand that’s buried in my asshole.

“She’s prolapsed a little,” Tom smiles at Eleanor, “you weren’t very nice.”

“She loved it.” Eleanor smiles back, and then kisses Tom deeply. Their lips lock and suck in hedonistic splendor as their fingers entangle in each other’s hair. I’ve never seen a kiss so carnal, so lecherously vulgar in my life. They’re perfect for each other, and somehow, it makes me jealous. I suppress that thought as best I can, but it still lingers. Part of me wants the fire of their lust, to be taken by it, and then, to join in. No, Tom is your brother, Laurie; you have to fight! This is all wrong, all so fucking wrong!

“Tom,” I sob, “don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”

“Sorry, sis,” Tom smiles, and then guides Eleanor’s hand out of my rim, “you just have to get through the hard part, and it’ll all be better.”

Knuckle by knuckle, Eleanor’s hands withdraws. I feel myself coming out with her, and I grit my teeth and growl in agonizing delight. Her last digit pulls from my ruined gape, and I feel my insides flow out of me. I scream and look back in horror as my asshole protrudes in a bud of pink flesh. God, it feels good. Eleanor giggles in delight and claps her hands as Tom reaches forward.

“Don’t!” I scream, but to no avail. My older brother pushes his fingers against the outturned, shiny, pink flesh of my ass, and gently squeezes. The ball of internal nerves blasts their signals up my spine, and I scream out in abject pleasure. My thighs tense, my toes curl, and I come. I come in a ferocious rip that sends my back arching in a wrenching curve with its axis pivoted about my subdued pelvis. I erupt a stream of feminine juices from my urethra and soak the bed beneath me. My hands claw at the sheets, and I scream louder and louder. I don’t even notice that Eleanor is stroking my hair until after the feeling is gone, and my body relaxes in involuntary submission.

“There, there,” she whispers lovingly, “that was just a taste of what’s to come. Are you ready, Laurie?”

I stare up at Eleanor from the tops of my eyes, and look back at Tom behind her. His demeanor is so foreign; it’s like he’s a completely different person. But he’s still my brother, and no matter how good it felt, what he did was wrong. I can’t. I can’t do this. But what choice do I have? He’s going to fuck me no matter what I say or do, I can see it in his eyes. Still, I have my dignity. I won’t say I want it. I’ll never say I like it.

“You people are fucking sick,” I whisper, “I hate both of you.”

“Don’t be so mean, Laurie,” Eleanor giggles as she tousles my hair, “you’ll regret saying that in a few minutes. Tom; fuck your little, bitchy sister.”

I line up my shot, press my tip to Laurie’s prolapsed asshole, and tease her with it; prodding her tender, pink folds with my rigid heat. She moans and pushes her face into the pillow to suppress the sounds of her pleasure. Eleanor runs a loving hand through my sister’s hair, and then looks down at my cock, and nods. Slowly, gently, I guide myself in. First, I push her rosebud back inside her, and she whimpers. Then, my tip stretches the tight, pink rim of her asshole, and she moans. Inch by inch I push deeper inside her, and inch by inch, her back arches from the bed. Her moans rise in their intensity with every bit I push, until my pelvis presses against the fat of her cheeks, and my balls rest on the frothing surface of her slit. Her shoulders pin together, her head rises from the pillow, and she looks back at me. Those blue eyes, my eyes, stare back at me, and they’re pleading, but not pleading for me to stop. No, pleading for me to keep going.

So, I do. I pull out to the tip, and then push in again, and again, and again. Every drive of my hips loosens her resisting inner muscles, until she’s not fighting me at all. Every drive sends her neck reeling back and her lips opening wide. Every drive forces her hands to unclench about the sheets she’s grasping, until they’re relaxed and flat against the bedding. And with every violent drive, her voice loses more of its defiance, and gains more of its pleasure. Now, she’s not just staying loose for me, but clenching and embracing me as I enter her. Now, she’s not flexing her glutes about me, but reaching back with her own hands and spreading them wider. Now, she’s not lying static and whimpering, but driving her hips back against me. Now, she’s not my precious little sister, but my moaning lover. I can see it in the way she looks at me; her mouth agape, her lips quivering and smiling at the corners, her eyes drunk with lust, and her brow furrowed at the peak of her face. She’s mine; all mine.

“You can get off her, Ellie,” I smile to my sadistic girlfriend, “she’s not going to fight us anymore.”

I love a controlling man. I love a man who takes charge of the situation, and imposes his will on me. Usually, that means I like it when a man gets too worked-up and just takes me, but now, I know what it really means: I’m a submissive whore. Tom imposed his will on me, my own brother, and here I am, with his cock seven-inches in my ass, moaning for him while I spread myself wide. I’m disgusted in myself, I even hate myself a little, but I can’t deny the part of me that loves it. The rational half of my mind is telling me this is abhorrent, disgusting and wrong, but the other half, the one that just loves a controlling man, is reveling in this depravity for the exact same reasons. That half absolutely delights in how sick and twisted this whole situation is, and the longer I try to endure the pleasure, the more that half takes control. I’m a mess of duality right now, but ‘luckily’ for me, Eleanor is playing therapist as she straddles my back.

“Just say you like it, Laurie,” she whispers in my ear, “and I’ll get off you, and you can enjoy yourself.”

“Fuck you.” I whisper back, my words interrupted by a constant stream of moans.

“You’re in denial,” she giggles, and runs her hands through my hair, “you can’t even stop yourself from moaning. Just say it: you’re a depraved slut who likes it in the ass from her own brother.”

“No.” I mutter, my moans now morphing into exerted groans as I twist my asshole around my brother’s driving cock.

“Be like me, Laurie,” she whispers in my ear, her breath tickling my lobe, “there’s no shame in it if you have no shame.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, feeling tears of pleasure welling in my eyes.

“Because you’re my best and only friend, and I need someone who not only accepts who I am, but also participates in the fucked-up things I want to do.” she whispers, “And also, corrupted innocence is a huge turn on for me. I get off watching people go against their morals and fall to their baser desires.”

“You’re a sick piece of shit.” I snap at her, but I can’t stop myself from arching my back and clenching around Tom’s cock.

“So are you, Laurie,” she whispers into my ear, her tongue flicking against my lobe, “now be a sick piece of shit with me, and I’ll eat your pussy.”

It’s too much, too much to take. My mind melts in the heat of my rising pleasure, and the temptation to give in becomes overwhelming. I stare into the loving, green eyes of my best friend, and I confess. I throw away the last of my pride, and accept who I really am.

“I like it.” I whisper.

“What was that?” Eleanor smiles with a raised eyebrow.

“I like it.” I moan, and push my ass hard against Tom’s ramming pelvis.

“I need a little more than that,” Eleanor smirks as she ruffles my hair, “you can do better.”

“I’m a little anal slut,” I whisper, “I’m a little anal slut who likes to fuck her brother.”

“Say it like you mean it.” She sneers.

“I’m my brother’s anal slut!” I scream, “Now eat my fucking pussy, you bitch!”

Eleanor laughs and dismounts my back. She grasps my shirt as I whip upward, and my top is pulled off in a single swipe. I press my naked back against my brother’s heaving chest and look up at him with lust etched across my face. He looks back at me with a possessive desire that bores into my soul. He wants me so bad, and I want him too. I want the kind of fire he and Eleanor have, I want to burn in his passion.

“Kiss me,” I whisper to him as he drives relentlessly into my ruined asshole, “kiss me like you kissed her.”

He does. His lips press against my own, and his tongue pushes into my mouth. I suck his lips as he devours me. It’s sloppy, and wet, and so good. My body surrenders to him; my muscles relax, my insides unclench, and my resistances break down. His kiss radiates through my mouth and seduces every inch of me. I’m his; I’m his little whore.

He grabs the underside of my thighs and pulls my legs forward. Eleanor dips her head into my crotch and pulls my leggings to my knees. Tom parts from our kiss just in time for me to see Eleanor look up at me with her tongue out, before she buries it into my folds. My brow furrows, a moan seeps through my lips, and I push her closer with both hands. Tom leans back, and I fall into his lap. His cock impales me upon impact, and I squeal in delight and drive Eleanor’s face deeper into my crotch. Her nose squishes against my pelvis, her lips puff against my slit, and her tongue pushes further inside me. She muffles a tone of lechery, looks up at me, and smiles from around my curly mound. Her lips suck the tender folds of my dripping cunt, and draw the flesh into her mouth while her tongue pushes between them. My head falls back and rests on Tom’s shoulder as I pant pathetic breaths of ecstasy. He lifts me off his lap and surges upward with a jackhammer of violent thrusts. The sudden fervency of his sex shocks my body into a writhe of twisting vertebrae and gyrating hips. I wail to the ceiling, screaming a fluctuating note that wanes with every pull, and shrills with every drive.

“Oh my god, Tom!” I screech.

“Make her come, Tom,” Eleanor giggles as she parts from my slit, strings of my viscous juices bridging her red lips, “make your whore sister come from her ass.”

Tom grabs my face by the cheeks and forces my gaze to him.

“Is that what you are?” he smiles, “Are you my little whore sister?”

“Yes,” I whimper, nodding compliantly as I revel in his degradation, “I’m your anal slut.”

“You’re just a sick cunt who wants her brother to fuck her ass, aren’t you?” he growls as he power-fucks my ass into a churning mess of chaotic pleasure.

“Yes!” I scream, dropping my ass onto his driving cock as I rise in orgasm, “I’m your bitch! I’m a depraved whore! I’m your slave!”

“My slave?!” Tom laughs, and grips my breasts with a covetous squeeze, “So, you’ll do anything I want?”

“Anything.” I whisper, smiling with half-mast eyes. I would do anything for my older brother, especially in this state.

“Your master orders you to come.” He smiles.

“Thank you, master.” I smile back, and surrender myself to the feeling building inside me.

Tom grips my thighs until the fat protrudes from his knuckles. He spreads them wide, and I anchor my feet outside of his knees, locking my shaking legs in a wide squat. I push Eleanor’s face harder into my pelvis, and growl as her tongue presses against the spot on my vaginal ceiling. Beneath her chin, my nectar is leaking from my slit, sliding down my taint, and lubricating my ferocious sodomy. My asshole is a gaping ruin, and screaming its relentless abuse into the pleasure centers of my mind. My abs flex, my shoulders pinch back, my head falls onto my brother’s shoulder, and my heart races. A torrent of convulsions churns in my depths and the two pleasures of Tom and Eleanor mix within the tempest that rises from my pelvis. It’s a pressure that grows and grows, and my voice carries from my mouth with the rising feeling. My body lurches to the violent drive of Tom’s hips, sending my breasts and ass jiggling into a chaotic blur of rippling flesh. He’s driving so fast I think I’ll break in two, and as the pain reaches its precipice, so does my lustful assent. I screech out, buck my hips, and shower Eleanor with my release. The feeling erupts inside me, and every part of my body seizes in a clenching ruin. Tom smashes his pelvis against me, roars out, and comes in my ass. I sob in delight as his spunk rushes through my desecrated insides. He holds me high in the air; his pelvis pivoted against my ass, his back shaking in strain, and then we collapse onto the bed in an awkward bounce. Heavy breaths and glistening skin mingle with the sweet stench of sex. I ease into a blissful state of gratification; the endorphins seeping into my mind as an evolutionary reward. My body doesn’t care that what I just did was wrong at every level, and neither does my mind. It was the best I ever had. I snuggle up against the heat of my brother, and sigh a tone of satisfaction. I am his, and his alone.

“Wow,” Eleanor whispers, staring up at me with her head resting in my lap, “that was beautiful.”

“You were amazing, Sis,” Tom says breathily against my neck, “you were so-”

“You fucking raped me!” I snarl at him. Tom’s eyes droop in crestfallen shame, and I can’t keep up the façade.

“And I fucking loved it,” I breathe onto his lips, searching his eyes, “how long have you thought about me this way?”

“Forever,” Tom smiles, “always. Did you ever…?”

“I mean…” I giggle, “the thought has crossed my mind, but it was just my brain making connections from ‘a’ to ‘b,’ you know? Like: Tom is a man, men have penises, I like penises, Tom has a penis. It was never an actual thought.”

“And now?” he asks me, pumping his still-erect cock into my ass.

My head falls, and a moan escapes my lips. I can’t come back from this, and I know it. This has ruined me, changed me forever, and I’ll have to adjust to the new reality.

“Eleanor, can you (ahhh) can you (fffuuuck), can you give me my phone?” I ask through increasing moans of pleasure.

Eleanor looks at me inquisitively, and then tosses me my phone. I unlock the touchscreen, page to my contacts, and select the number I’m looking for. Dial tone, and then an answer.

“Hey, Babe,” Ryan’s voice says through the speaker, “you wanna come over tonight and-”

“I’m breaking up with you, Ryan,” I say as evenly as I can through my moans, “don’t call me again; it’s not you, it’s me.”

“Laurie, what the fu-”

“I found someone better.” I hang up the phone, toss to the side and stare at my brother with a twisted smile on my face.

“Does that answer your question?” I ask coyly.

“It does,” Tom smirks back, and then leans against me, “he was a douche anyway.”

“Holy shit, that was cold.” Eleanor exclaims, staring at me in awe, “And you called me a bitch!”

“You said you wanted friends as fucked-up as you are,” I laugh, and grind my ass against my thrusting brother, “well, now you’ve got them.”

“You’re not that fucked up.” Eleanor sneers.

“I just fucked my brother.”

“Ehhhh, you kind of got forced into it,” Eleanor retorts, “so it doesn’t really count.”

“Oh?” I smirk, and pull away from my brother. He pops out my ass with a sheath of my anal flesh still wrapped about him, and I yelp in delight as I’m turned inside-out again. I level my gaze on him, and crawl backward as I lick my lips. He raises an eyebrow at me, and gets on his back, and I do the rest. I look at him from the tops of my eyes as my tongue rests between his balls. I lick my way up, savoring the throbbing pulse of his sack, and then rest the tip of my tongue against his base. I draw it slowly along his underside, tasting his delicious cum and the sweet tang of my ass on his cock. When I get to the top, I wrap my lips around him, and take him slowly into my throat. His head falls back against the bedding, and he groans in satisfaction. I giggle at his loss of equanimity, and suck hard as I lower my head. He reaches the resistance of my throat, and I loosen for him, before taking him all the way in. I gag when I reach his base, but I don’t pull out. I rotate my lips, suckling the rigid skin of his loins, and then slowly draw up. His cum pools in my mouth and I keep it there until my lips close together at his tip. He looks up at me, and I stare at him. Then, I swallow.

“I fucking love you, Laurie.” He whispers.

I kiss the tip of his cock, and watch in rapt delight as it sways from side to side. Then, I look at him and smile broadly.

“I love you too, big brother.” I smile endearingly.

“Hey,” Eleanor yells indignantly, “don’t make me the third wheel! Show me some love!”

“We both…tolerate you, Ellie.” Tom laughs at the beautiful, naked redhead.

“You are permitted to share oxygen with us,” I add, teasingly, “and also water, if you so choose to.”

“Fuck both of you guys,” Eleanor laughs, and slides her body between us, “I put this whole thing together.”

“It was my plan to start with!” I exclaim.

“Oh, this was your plan?” Eleanor laughs, and pushes my prolapse back into my ass. I shudder in pleasure for a moment, and look back at her with lustful eyes.

“Well…” I say, “no, but it was my idea to get you two together.”

“Well, that backfired.” Eleanor giggles.

“Now that you broke up with Ryan,” Tom says, “who are you going to prom with?”

“Prom is fucking stupid,” I chuckle and give my brother a knowing smile, “and too expensive.”

“But you already bought your dress,” Eleanor says, “so the expensive part is out of the way.”

“I haven’t seen you in it yet,” Tom says as he pets my curly hair, “I’d like to.”

“Hmm,” I smirk, “I bet you would. Do you know what I want?”

“What?” he asks.

“I want to wear it for you,” I whisper over Eleanor’s head, “and then I want you to cut it off me.”

I can practically feel Tom’s boner pushing on Eleanor’s back and driving her pelvis against my ass. Her eyes widen and she giggles at me.

“I think you should get that dress on,” she laughs, “like, right the fuck now.”

I sit upright to go to my closet, but something stops me. Through our merriment and lust, none of us heard the car pull up in the driveway. None of heard the back-door open, and none of us heard Mom walking up the steps. It wasn’t until it was too late, when she opened my bedroom door and saw the three of us, that we knew she had come home early.

The moans and screams of my teenage daughter flow from her open bedroom window and into the backyard. The neighbors give me amused expressions while I hurriedly run to the back door and fumble with the keys. I flush beat-red with embarrassment as I battle the door’s broken latch to the soundtrack of Laurie wailing her ecstasy above me. I curse under my breath and wrestle with the stubborn metal, feeling the neighbor’s judging eyes taking me in. This wouldn’t be nearly as bad if Laurie kept it down, but holy shit, she’s a screamer! Was I ever that obnoxious in high school? Yeah, I definitely was, but at least I had the wherewithal to close the fucking window!. I grit my teeth and finally manage to spring the fucking latch. I swing the backdoor open and run up the stairs. Her screams subside as I reach the top step, and I take a moment to breathe and collect myself. I assume her and Ryan have heard my rapid ascent up the steps, and are now hurriedly getting beneath the covers. I’m not the kind of mom who barges into her daughter’s room when I know she’s in the act, so I wait until she’s had enough time to cover up. After a painful minute, I figure I’ve waited long enough, so I put on my best mom-face, and grasp the door knob.

“How hard is it to close your fucking-” the words stop dead in my throat. Apparently, they hadn’t heard me coming up the stairs; and by “they,” I mean Laurie, her best friend, Eleanor, and her brother, Tom. My son, Tom. They’re all naked, all lying on the bed, and all staring at me with the same expression of horror that’s on my face. Actually, Eleanor’s expression is more of amusement than anything.

“Hey, Mrs. B!” she laughs jovially at me, “You know, knocking is usually the polite thing to do.”

I open my mouth to say something, but the words stick in my throat. I simply stare from Laurie, to Tom. Laurie’s gaze falls almost immediately, but Tom stares back. His shocked expression has relaxed into a cold, hard, gaze. It’s a look I’ve never seen him wear before; it almost says “so, we’re fucking; what are you going to do about it?” It’s disturbing, but this whole goddamn situation is disturbing. No, “disturbing” is the wrong word for it; this is a family-ruining, life-destroying, you-failed-so-hard-as-a-mother, catastrophe. My heart sinks slowly into my chest as the realization weighs on me. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but there’s nothing to be said. There’s no magical combination of words that can fix this. I give my children a final, dismayed look, step into the hallway, and close the door.

Oh, man; this is just too good! Tom and Laurie are staring at each other, their faces communicating their horror in stark detail. I’m nestled between them, enjoying the warmth of their bodies almost as much as I’m enjoying their discomfort. In case you haven’t realized this about me, I’m a twisted, sexual deviant. I need the wrong and the extreme to really get me off. I was worried that after Tom seduced Laurie, the two would start a boring, brother-sister romance. Once you get passed the taboo of the relationship, there’s really nothing that special about two related teenagers fucking each other… unless they get caught. Well, they’ve been caught, and by the worst person possible. Now, the possibilities really open up.

“Tom,” Laurie whispers to her brother in a shaking voice, “what the fuck are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Tom says grimly, though his voice doesn’t bare any of Laurie’s fear, “this is… really fucked.”

“Should we…” Laurie gulps, “should we move away together? You’re already almost in college, and Lincoln isn’t too far away. I could move out with you and still finish my senior year.”

“That’s an idea,” Tom muses, “I’d have to transfer out of the dorms and get an apartment, but we could do it.”

“You guys are pussies!” I laugh, catching the Baker siblings by surprise. They seemed to have forgotten I was here, and I demand to be noticed. “You guys are just going to bail on your single mother and leave her here alone? What kind of children are you?!”

“She’ll never speak to us again!” Laurie hisses, “She’ll kick us out anyway!”

“You don’t know that,” I reply, “you have no idea what’s going through her head right now.”

“I think we have a pretty good idea of what she’s thinking,” Tom says, and then brushes a strand of red hair over my ear and looks me in the eye, “but enlighten us, Ellie; what is she thinking?”

“That this is all her fault,” I say, “parents never blame their children for their actions; they always blame themselves. And right now, you two are planning on abandoning her. How do you think she’ll take that?”

I see the shame begin to spread across Laurie and Tom’s faces, and I smile internally. Manipulation has always been my greatest art, and today, I have a chance to paint my masterpiece.

“She’s right,” Tom says to Laurie, “we can’t leave her; she’ll blame herself for everything.”

“But what do we do?” Laurie says softly, the fear leaving her voice, and the sadness taking over, “How can we look her in the eye after this?”

“I could talk to her,” I say in my best ‘I’m just trying to help’ voice, “I could be the intermediary for the three of you, and smooth things out before you meet.”

“That’s an idea,” Tom says, “she’s known you your entire life, and you’re Laurie’s best friend; she’d be willing to speak honestly to you.”

“Can you do it?” Laurie asks me, her eyes full of hope.

“Sure, I can,” I smile easily, “I’ll get her calm and collected, and then the four of us will have a nice, long, talk. Once she gets over the shock of it all, she’ll accept the situation, and you guys can move on as a happy family.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Tom mutters incredulously.

“I can be very persuasive,” I smile wickedly to him, “as you two well know.”

Tom smiles at that. He glances over my head at Laurie, and Laurie nods.

“Ok,” Laurie says, and smiles for the first time, “sounds like a plan. Thank you, Ellie.”

“It’s nothing,” I laugh, shaking my hand in dismissal, “you two get dressed, and come when I call for you. This’ll all blow over in a week at the most.”

I get off the bed, making a show of stretching and shifting my hips for the Bakers. I glance casually over my shoulder, and smile when I see them both gawking; it seems Laurie has developed quite the taste for the fairer sex. I slip on one of her signature cut-off tops, and cram my full ass into a pair of her leggings. The bottom of my ample, pale, bust protrudes from the frayed hem of her tank, and her spandex stretches dangerously as it tries to contain me. I give myself a once-over in the mirror, and then walk out the door without a look back. I strut across the hallway to Mrs. Sierra Thomas Baker’s room and smile to myself. God, that was easy. Puh-lease, Tom; do you really think I’m going in there to fix the beautiful mess I created? Do you really think this ends in a wholesome, normal, family? Laurie is a bit naive, but you know me better. Did Da Vinci crumple up the Mona Lisa halfway through? Did Beethoven just say, ‘fuck it,’ after the first movement of Moonlight Sonata? I’ve just started my masterpiece, and now I’m going to finish it.

My thumb slips on the flint of my Bic as I shakenly try to light a cigarette. I haven’t had a smoke in years, but right now, I need one. What does it matter anyway? All the rules I’ve imposed on myself, all the classes I’ve taken, all the sacrifices I’ve made, all amounted to my teenage children fucking each other. Smoking in the house hardly seems like an egregious infraction now. A knock on the door nearly causes me to jump through the ceiling. I can’t see them now! I can’t look in their eyes!

“Mrs. B?” Eleanor’s voice calls from the other side of the door, “can I come in?”

I breathe a long sigh of relief, and manage to steady my hand enough to light the end of my smoke. I take a deep, sweet inhale of the addictive fire, and blow out, feeling my electrified nerves calm.

“Come in, Ellie.” I say to the door.

Laurie’s voluptuous, ginger, best-friend walks in wearing her clothes. They are way too small for her, but I guess Ellie didn’t have much in the way of options.

“Are you to be the intermediary between my children and I?” I ask her as I put the square between my lips.

“You got it,” Eleanor smiles, and gestures to the pack in my hands, “can I bum a smoke?”

I hand her a cigarette, light it between her red lips, and then sit down at the foot of the bed. She sits next to me, and we smoke in subdued silence.

“So…” Eleanor says, leaning back on the bed, “this whole thing is pretty fucked.”

“Yeah,” I concur, “but I’m guessing you don’t mind in the least,” I turn to her and give her a sharp look, “do you?”

“Oh?” Eleanor replies with a raised eyebrow, “you think this is all my fault?”

“You’ve always been a corrupting influence on Laurie,” I say, my voice brimming with rage, “and you were right in the middle of it. What am I supposed to think?”

“Sure, I was there,” Eleanor smirks, “but this was a long time coming, Sierra, and you know it.”

Eleanor stares at me with her sharp green eyes, and her gaze doesn’t falter for a moment. My eyes fall to my lap, and I feel the truth in her words sting me to the core. This was a long time coming, because I'm their mother. The hint of tears begin to well in my eyes, and I fight to push them back; I fight to convince myself that it's not all my fault.

“So,” I say, failing to keep my voice from breaking, “you’re saying I’m a complete failure as a mother.”

“Not a complete failure,” Eleanor says, not bothering to console me, “but there were definitely some missteps.”

“Like?” I hiss venomously, staring darkly at her, “What do you know about it? What could a stupid slut like you know about raising children?”

“I’m the stupid slut?” Eleanor laughs, “I’ve heard stories about you, Sierra; you were practically a sex addict. You were a year younger than me when you had Tom, and just a bit older than me when you had Laurie. The only saving grace for you, is that you somehow managed to have them both from the same man.”

Her words are cruel and full of malice, but my anger doesn’t swell. No, she’s just telling me the hard truth. She’s not sugarcoating bullshit (something I’ve been doing for the past eighteen years), she’s laying it out as it is. My mind scrambles for a way to save face, but my reconciliatory thoughts are tangled with the harsh reality flowing from Eleanor's red lips.

“I stopped,” I say in a shaking voice, “after Bradley left us, I didn’t go running out for someone else. I didn’t fall back on my old habits.”

“You should have,” Eleanor says, “you should have gotten someone to be their father.”

“I knew I couldn’t,” I mumble, pursing the smoke between my lips, “I had to control myself and become the mom they needed.”

“You couldn’t trust yourself to stay loyal to one man, so you forsook men all together,” Eleanor replies mercilessly, “So, instead of fixing your problem, you ran away from it.”

“I stayed abstinent through my twenties!” I growl at Eleanor, “I sacrificed the best years of my life for my children!”

“And look at the result.” Eleanor says, placing her cigarette between her lips, “all that self-denial, all that sacrifice, and how did it turn out? How noble of you, Sierra, to shackle your children to yourself.”

I stare dumbly at Eleanor, and feel the weight of her words crushing my chest. My gaze falls back to the floor, and this time, I can’t keep the tears from coming. She’s right; I should have sought help, I should have fixed myself when I had the chance. Hot, saline, water pours from my welling eyes and falls in little droplets to the carpet. The trickle becomes a flood, and before I know it, I’m reeling forward in the throes of sorrow, and spilling eighteen years of regret onto the floor. I feel a pair of soft, comforting, hands delicately touch my shoulders, and the heat of someone’s body embracing me affectionately from behind.

“Let it out, Sierra,” Eleanor whispers in my ear, “you’ve been holding in the poison for too long.”

“I knew I should have gotten help!” I cry, my diaphragm heaving in bouts of grief, “But I kept telling myself I didn’t need it!”

“And how did that effect Tom?” Eleanor whispers as her hands begin to tenderly massage my shoulders.

“I smothered him!” I cry, “I babied him well passed his age, because I didn’t want another man to leave me! Not my son!”

“And Laurie?” Eleanor asks kindly.

“I stayed distant!” I bawl, feeling the catharsis of grief-fueled release compelling the truth from me, “I didn’t want her to end up like me, so I kept her at arm’s length, when I should have held her close! Now she’s gone off and fucked her brother because it was the only way for her to find closeness in the family!”

“There, there, Sierra,” Eleanor’s sweet voice sings in my ear as she gently guides me to lie down, “admitting fault is the first step. Just relax, and let me take care of you.”

Eleanor’s hands prod me gently on my sides, and I turn over onto my stomach. She straddles me above the hips, and sinks her wonderful fingers into the congested knotting of my back. She sings a soft, soothing melody under her breath as her elegant digits work tenderly into the tense muscles. I feel more and more at ease with her, and I begin to relax, and let my guard down.

“You were a little off on your assessment,” Eleanor’s musical voice whispers, “but I can see where you’re coming from.”

“What do you mean?” I sniffle.

“Laurie didn’t seek out attention from Tom,” Eleanor says, “it was the other way around, actually.”

“Tom?” I ask incredulously, lazily raising my head just enough to look back at her. Eleanor looks up from the massage she’s giving me and nods with a crooked smile strewn across her red lips.

“Tom confessed to me that he wanted Laurie,” Eleanor says, her fingers working down my spine, “and after a little persuasion on my part, Laurie found that she wanted Tom as well.”

“I didn’t think he had it in him.” I smile sadly, and rest my cheek back on the bed, “My sweet boy…”

“Not so sweet,” Eleanor laughs melodically, “and hardly a boy any longer.”

“And Laurie’s already a woman,” I sigh, “I know it’s a cliché to say it, but it really does seem like just yesterday they were goofy toddlers, playing in the sandbox.”

Eleanor sings a soft, soothing melody that I can barely hear under her breath. The wordless lullaby floats into my ear and caresses my troubled mind as her fingers unwind the tension of my posture, leaving warm, loose muscle in their gentle wake. She sinks her thumbs beneath my shoulder blades, and graciously separates the entwined tendons between them. I feel the bridging tension of my shoulders release, and they sink easily into the bedding. She presses her palms along the arch of my spine, and slides congested muscle from bone. Warm, fluid, tingles permeate along the taut sinew of my back, until the fibers are lithe and flowing. Her fingers impress the tight reaches above my hips, and unravel the snarl of clogged fascia. She leaves me gelatinous and fluid, and I feel as though I could spill into the soft bedding from between my bones. Her delicate hands slide beneath my waistband, and I don’t stop her. I hum a gracious murmur, and feel a moan linger on my lips. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched intimately, and her seduction is more than my fragile mind can take. I’m a slave to her gentleness; a prisoner to her comfort. I’m broken, and need someone to fix me. I’m vulnerable, and need someone to protect me. Eleanor will fix me, Eleanor will protect me. Eleanor will make it all better.

“You know,” Eleanor says, leaning forward and breathing the words into my ear, “this doesn’t have to be the end of your relationship with them.”

“It doesn’t?” I ask, feeling a glimmer of hope rising in my chest. Eleanor will fix me.

“No,” she smiles warmly, and traces a single finger down my wet cheek, “but it will take some adjusting on your part. You can’t change the past, but you can still decide the future.”

“What do I have to do?” I ask. Eleanor will protect me.

“You just have to see them as they are,” Eleanor says, her warm smile turning sly, “you just have to accept them, and with a little help from me, they’ll accept you.”

“How?” I ask, feeling the glimmer of hope swell. Eleanor will make it all better.

“Stop hiding yourself, Sierra,” Eleanor whispers, her face brushing cheek-to-cheek against me, “stop denying what you really want.”

Eleanor’s hands move from my hips, and push beneath my skirt. Her fingers grasp the fat of my backside and spread me wide open. I’m too enamored in her trance to react, too trapped in her comfort to deny her. Touch me, Eleanor; touch me on the inside.

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” Eleanor whispers, her lips so close to mine. She holds me open with one hand, and reaches beneath me with the other. A single, elegant finger runs along the moist, tender, slit between my legs. She barely brushes me, but her touch awakens a hunger so ravenous, it’s unbearable.

“You want to make love to me?” I ask hopefully, my eyes drooping into an expression I haven’t worn in over a decade. I breathe in Eleanor's breath, and taste the hint of her mouth on my tongue.

“I’m just the messenger, Sierra,” Eleanor smiles, her single finger running tortuously along me, never providing the penetration I crave, “this is something you’ll need to do yourself.”

“I’m-I’m…” a moan slips through my words, “I’m their mother! I couldn’t!”

“Yes, you can.” Eleanor says through a heavy, lecherous breath, and presses a finger hard against my clit. A shock of satisfaction ratchets up my spine, and my head rises from the bed; my eyes wide, my lips parted, and my mouth moaning. Eleanor’s luscious lips press to my neck and covetously suck the smooth skin of my throat. I feel her seductive control over me seep into the furthest reaches of my mind, and I melt in her lustful wake.

"After what they’ve done," Eleanor whispers, her breath hot on my neck, her fingers torturing me with pleasure, “there are only two paths for you: spend the rest of your life ignoring the elephant in the room, and grow increasingly distant until you lose them, or join them, and spend the rest of your life sharing your body with them, as a mother, and a lover. What do you choose, Sierra?”

I moan, cry and shift desperately under Eleanor’s control. The need grows so hot and hungry that it consumes every thought it my mind. The transient voices of rationality give way to the carnal screams of Eleanor’s twisted desire, until I can no longer distinguish between her manipulation, and my own womanly needs.

I can’t do it! Yes I can. It’s wrong! So wrong. I don’t want to! Don’t lie to yourself. They’re my children! They can be more than just that. My baby boy… Your handsome son. My little girl… Your beautiful daughter. My handsome son… His strong hands. My beautiful daughter… Her full thighs. His strong hands… Gripping your ass. Her full thighs… Entwined with your own. They’re so young… A chance to be young again with them. They have each other… They could have you. A happy family. A happy family.

“Ellie…” I moan, biting my lip and looking pleadingly into her eyes, “get them in here.”

Hey reader, I’d like to pause the story for a bit to describe what I’m looking at right now: Sierra Thomas Baker. It didn’t take much convincing to get her out of her clothes, but it did take a bit of gentle prodding to get her into the clothes I wanted. She’s such an emotional wreck right now, I could convince her to do anything, but I digress. Sierra looks a lot like Laurie. She has long, brown, curly hair, a cleft chin, a cut jaw line, big, blue eyes, a pointed noise, and high cheekbones. Where mother and daughter differ, is the body. Laurie is lean and athletic, but Sierra is built more like me; D-cup tits that jut perfectly from her chest, and an ass you could balance a wine bottle on. Even at thirty-four, her curves don’t show a hint of sag. She’s got a butterfly tattoo on her lower back (which is just adorable), and a mole next to her right eye that adds an exotic appeal to her. And reader, I can only hope that after two kids, my pussy looks as good as hers.

Anyway, I think it’s about time the Baker siblings reconciled with their mom, don’t you? I’ll let Laurie describe the clothes I put on her; I think you’re going to like it.

“Laurie, Tom!” Eleanor’s voice calls down the hallway, “Your mother would like to speak with you!”

I give Tom a nervous glance, and he smiles and gives my thigh a comforting squeeze. I check myself in the mirror to make sure I’m dressed appropriately. I hope the pink sundress Mom bought me last year will be enough of a nostalgia-boost to get me in her good graces, but I doubt it. I sigh, and nod to Tom. We stand up, link our fingers together, and walk hand-in-hand down the hallway. I open Mom’s bedroom door, and gasp.

I’ve never seen my mother naked before. I’ve never so much as seen her upper thigh. Right now, my mother isn’t completely naked, but it would have been better if she was. She’s wearing a pair of fishnet stockings, black stiletto heels, a black choker, and nothing else. Eleanor holds my mother from behind; her spandex-clad legs encircling my mother’s bare ass, her chin resting on my mother’s naked shoulder, and her pale hands caressing the glistening, leaking slit between my mother’s legs. She whispers something in my mother’s ear, and Mom nods nervously and looks up at us. Eleanor’s smiling, green eyes linger on my naked mother a little longer, and then rise slowly to mine.

“Your mom and I had quite a productive chat,” Eleanor smirks at me as she teases my mother’s pussy, “and we concluded that the best move going forward, is to slightly alter the dynamic of your relationship. Do you like her outfit?”

I give Eleanor a hateful, dagger-sharp look. She returns it with mirthful amusement and a shit-eating grin. This is what I get for trusting Eleanor fucking O’Reilly with a delicate family matter.

“Tom,” Mom says to my brother, her voice quivering in nervousness, “it will be difficult for me to think of you as more than my son, but I’ll try if you will. You’ve… you’ve grown so much; you look so much like your father. Can… can you think of me as more than just your mother?”

Tom gives Mom a studious look. His eyes travel down the length of her body, and I see her shiver under his gaze. Was it a reflex of fear, or excitement, I wonder? Probably both; he had the same effect on me.

“Yes,” Tom says with an easy smile, and begins to undo his belt, “I already am.”

I give my brother a shocked expression, but he just shrugs his shoulders, and continues disrobing.

“Laurie,” Mom says, her voice shaking with desire as Eleanor tortures her with teasing caresses, “you’re a beautiful woman with a kind heart. I kept you distant, because I was afraid of how I might influence you if we were too close. Will you be close with me now?”

Eleanor’s green eyes watch me with a calculating, challenging expression. Are you going to fuck this up? they seem to ask, Are you going to pussy-out? I turn my attention back to Mom, and take her in. God, she looks like me. Her breasts are bigger, and her ass is thicker, but add seventeen years to me, and you get her. Objectively, I can say she’s attractive, but do I want her? As my eyes soak in every inch of her near-nakedness, I realize, I do. I’ve changed; Tom and Eleanor have changed me, and I like the change. There’s not another moment’s consideration; I am going to fuck my mother.

I curl my fingers around the hem of my sundress and give my Mom a devilish grin. She returns my smirk with a wide-eyed, delighted smile, as if I gave her a touching gift for Christmas. I plant my knees onto the bed, and crawl over to her like a stalking lioness; my head stooped low, my shoulders protruding from my back, my hips swaying behind me, and my sundress slipping off them.

“She’s a little nervous,” Eleanor smiles companionably to me, and compels Mom’s legs to spread, “so be nice with her.”

“Are you scared, Mommy?” I whisper lustfully, a broad, wicked grin strewn about my face. She nods, smiles meekly, and opens her legs just a bit more. My feline-like crawl stops when I reach her feet. I slink my body upward, toss my auburn curls over my shoulder, and glance back at Tom. He strokes himself at the foot of the bed, and gives me a smiling nod; ladies first. I turn my gaze back to Mom, and usher Eleanor’s torturing fingers from her. I run my fingertips back and forth along the crease of her inner thighs, inching ever closer to the flower between her quivering legs. I see her slit glisten and leak, and her petals redden, and swell. I feel my mouth water at the sight of it, and I raise my eyes to hers. She bites her lip and hums a shaking, needful tone through her nose as she stares up at me with apprehensive eyes. Her fearful expression finally breaks, and she cries out with wanton abandon.

“Please, Laurie!” she nearly screams, “I can’t take any more!”

“First,” I giggle, “I want you to kiss me. A real kiss, Mommy.”

Mom gives me an anxious look, and then pulls me gently forward by the strap of my dress. Her full, pink lips are trembling; she’s still not entirely sure about this. I know the feeling all too well, and I know that it takes a firm hand to push the conflicting emotions away. I grab the back of her head, and force it forward. Our lips meet in a mush of tender flesh, and I feel Mom grow rigid in shock. I part her mouth with my own, and push my tongue inside. She gasps through her nose at the suddenness of my invasion, and I pull back a bit to ease her into it. I flick my tongue teasingly across hers, and invite her to play with me. Her mouth remains static for a second, and then joins in. Her lips suck gently, and her tongue slides tentatively along mine. At first, it’s obvious she hasn’t kissed anyone for a long time, but her old skills soon come back to her, and unexpected passion flows from her mouth. The only way I can describe it, is by saying it’s the kind of kiss you’d expect your mother to give you in the heat of lust; caring, tender, but still carnal. After a long moment, we part with a string of saliva bridging our mouths, and our eyes connecting above it.

“Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I whisper to her though an easy smile as I trace my fingers along her jaw.

“Experience,” Mom smirks crookedly, “you kiss like a whore, by the way.”

“She practiced on me before she ever kissed a boy,” Eleanor chuckles, “so, my bad.”

“You know you liked it,” I laugh and crinkle my nose at Mom, “and you’ll like it even more in a second.”

My thumbs hook along the straps of my dress, and I let if fall off me. Mom’s eyes unabashedly take me; her blue irises running greedily down the length of my nubile figure. That’s the look I wanted to see from her; pure, vulgar, desire. I’m not your little girl anymore, Mommy, and now you that you finally know that, I think it’s time to put you in your place. You didn’t think you could just jump in to what Tom and I have, and be my equal, did you? No, you’re going to be the bottom bitch. Playtime’s over.

“Eleanor,” I smile to my redheaded friend, “hold her arms back.”

Eleanor complies instantly, an excited look strewn across her face. She locks my mother’s arms in her elbows, plants her palms on the back of Mom’s head, and pulls back in a nelson hold. Mom’s lecherous expression flashes to one of fear in an instant, and I grin broadly.

“You didn’t think you could just join us and start on my level, did you?” I sneer as I mush my mother’s cheeks together with a clamping hand, “Did Ellie tell you how they initiated me?”

Mom’s eyes are wide, her lips are squished open, and her body is trembling. I savor the power I have over her, and feel it’s seduction coarse through my veins.