Fifteen Years without Parole - Sex Stories

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Fifteen Years without Parole

Date: 8/29/2015, Categories: Fiction, Incest, Male/Female, Teen Male/Teen Female, Author: Unknow user, Rating: 71.9, Source: sexstories.com

thrusts, thoughts grasping wildly for something dull, anything that wasn't the feel of my sister wrapped around my cock and the breaths and groans and other sounds of our exertion and the smell of sex and the sight of her in the mirror, eyes locked on mine, intense, almost in agony in anticipation of— And Pam stiffened, stretched, her white-knuckled grip on the counter holding her steady as she pushed herself into me, gritted teeth beneath red lips stifling the moan that erupted from somewhere deep inside. Muscles tightened, everything tightened, as the orgasm hit, and I tried to keep up, guiding her through it as best I can. And she didn't break eye contact. And I saw the fire in her eyes, the burning that drives her, and it was more than I could take. I lasted another second, maybe, before I lost it, hands clutching feverishly as my cock thrusted as deep as it could, spasms of pleasure shaking me as I fired off inside of her. Of Pam. My Pam. We panted, together, as we waited for the aftershocks to cease. At last, they did. "That was..." She stopped. Swallowed, eyes closed. Caught her breath. "Okay. I have to say. That was pretty fucking weird." "Thought it might be romantic. Or something. I dunno." Not exactly my wittiest, post-coital. Pam slid away from me, disengaging herself from my softening cock. "That much eye contact? More rapey than romantic, I'd say." Ow. And not the joking, playful-banter ow. "Well, excuse me for experimenting. Nothing but sixty-second missionary ... from now on, like a good by-the-book Protestant." She turned, grabbed my collar, pulled me into a savage kiss. "Still hot, though," she whispered, an inch from my face. "Let's try it again sometime, in a place that doesn't smell like piss and air freshener." "What, sixty-second missionary?" "Don't tempt me, smartass." She gave me a gentle push, then turned back to the mirror to un-muss her hair. "Next time, I get to call the shots. And you've not seen everything in my toy box yet." "The 'no anal' clause goes both ways, I think." There was no hiding what we'd done, and I didn't much care to try, so I just made sure nothing was hanging out and led the way out of the bathroom. "Beyond that, I'm willing to negotiate." "Aww, and I had a strap-on picked out and everything. You sure you don't want to meet Mister Twisty?" "Can we table this discussion until we're in a cab, at least?" Pam waved at the hostess, whose mask of professionalism cracked just enough to reveal the disgust underneath. "Please. A hundred bucks says half of the old fucks eating here have gimp suits and latex masks in their closets." Her smile turned wolfish, and her hand found mine. "And it's not like we're ever getting a reservation here again. Shall we go, my dear brother?" I brought her hand up to my lips. "After you, sister of mine." We'd put enough emphasis on those words that they carried back into the main dining room. A conversation or two stuttered to a halt, and I grinned. "What happens when we run out ...