Hot Night in the Kitchen with Sister, incest stories brother and sister.. Aaron bounded up the stairs of the aged apartment building, taking the steps two at a time. His sister Emma lived on the third floor. It was Aaron’s birthday, and Emma had invited her big brother over for dinner. He didn’t want to be late.
They hadn’t seen each other in months. Aaron and Emma lived an hour’s drive from each other, but their busy schedules made it difficult for them to get together. Aaron was a recent graduate of medical school, sometimes pulling 20-hour shifts as an intern at a nearby hospital. Emma did double duty as a cooking school student by day and sous chef at a popular French restaurant by night.
Aaron arrived at Emma’s door and paused before knocking. He was nervous, and he was not sure why. Maybe it was because he had not seen her in a while. Maybe it was because of his sister’s personality, so different from his: light, vivacious, and always sparkly, with a taste for mischief. Or, maybe it was because of what happened on the mountain four years earlier.
He had no more time to think about it because the door flew open. Emma stood in front of Aaron, inside the door, and he had to check himself to avoid gasping.
Aaron knew his sister was pretty. His friends often reminded him of it, despite their being four years older than she was. In high school it always seemed a little creepy to Aaron that his friends snuck glances at his middle school-aged sister, even if she was undeniably cute. Aaron had long since reconciled himself to the fact that, while he was a good-looking guy, his kid sister was in another league of attractiveness. Everywhere she went, she drew admirers, even among his friends.
Emma never looked better than she did standing in the doorway to greet Aaron on his 26th birthday.
The toothy, eager smile and wide-open shining eyes always attracted his attention first. It was gratifying, Aaron thought, to see his sister so enthusiastic to see him. Emma’s straight hair was cut in a wedge that stopped above her shoulders. She’d kept it that way ever since becoming a chef. It was practical but stylish. Aaron tried, but he couldn’t help sweeping his eyes quickly over his sister’s body. A white tank top with a deep scoop neck hugged her torso, showing off the cleavage of breasts raised high and pressed together by a push-up bra. A thin band of skin showed under the bottom hem of the tank top, and beneath that band no more than 12 inches of tan miniskirt obscured the hips and waist that gave way below to long, shapely legs atop sandals with four-inch heels. Her fingernails and toenails were painted a matching shade of pink.
Emma was one of those girls who looked sexy and glamorous, in a girl-next-door way, without trying too hard. But Aaron thought she looked more glamorous than normal. He was no expert on cosmetics, but it looked like she was wearing more makeup than he had seen her wear before.
“Aaron!” she called, throwing her arms out.
Before he could think what to say she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight hug.
“It’s so good to see you, big brother,” she said. “Happy Birthday.”
“It’s good to see you too, Emma,” Aaron said. “Really good.”
Emma turned, and Aaron followed her into her apartment. To his chagrin, he caught himself glancing at her trim, round bottom molded by the little skirt.
As soon as he stepped into the apartment he was hit by the heat and the scent coming from the kitchen. Pungent smells of onions and spices swirled in hot, humid air. Aaron loved food — good food. He had little time for it while he was kept busy by his internship duties. The aroma coming from Emma’s kitchen immediately set off a wave of grumbling in his stomach.
Aaron could smell the kitchen, but he could not see it. He walked into the small living room of Emma’s apartment. Aaron looked around. On the outside the building was not much to look at, but once inside he could tell the landlord had taken steps to update the interior. The plaster walls were smooth and white, and they were trimmed in freshly stained wood. Aaron was impressed that Emma could afford such a nice apartment. He was struck, too, by the care with which she had decorated it. She liked color, obviously. Chairs, sofas, lamps, and assorted bric-a-brac displayed every hue of the rainbow, but somehow Emma had brought all the colors together with a skilled eye. Emma’s fondness for color contrasted with Aaron’s preference for the monochrome — his own home was done up mostly in gray and white and muted earth tones.
When Aaron was done taking in his surroundings he turned to Emma, who was staring at him.
“You have a roommate, right?” Aaron asked. “Is she around?”
“Nope,” Emma said. “Riley’s away for the weekend. Visiting her brother. It’s just us.”
“Well, I feel special,” Aaron said. “Whatever you’re cooking smells fantastic.”
“Why don’t you come in and see,” Emma said. She pivoted, and Aaron followed her into the kitchen, his eyes again glancing at her butt and at the hem of the little skirt against the backs of her lean thighs. He shook his head.
I’ve got to stop doing that, he thought.
The kitchen was bright and colorful, like the rest of the apartment. It was small, a narrow rectangle of black and white floor tiles in a checkerboard pattern with the stove and cupboards on one side and sink and refrigerator on the other. Emma used her limited space to maximum effect. The kitchen brimmed with pots and pans and bottles of spices and colorful vegetables everywhere, but the placement of everything seemed orderly, not chaotic.
Emma knew her way around a kitchen. She always had. Aaron remembered Emma as a child, her eyes barely reaching counter level, begging their mother to let her cook. Mom let her. By the time she was in middle school Emma was a better cook than their mom, although Aaron would never have told his mom that. Mom did not seem to mind; she liked ceding the kitchen duties to her young, eager daughter, whose enthusiasm for cooking gave mom a chance to relax. For Emma, cooking was not a daily chore; it was a passion and an art.
Steam rose from pots and pans on the stove. Emma pulled the oven door open and a whisper of smoke issued from inside. She reached into the oven with a thick mitt on her hand and pulled out a tray of yellowy-orange puff balls. Aaron did not recognize them, but his nose caught the rich scent of baked gruyere cheese.
Emma set the tray on the stove top and pulled off the mitts. She put another large dish sitting nearby into the oven. She picked up a bottle of white Burgundy sitting on the counter and poured it — glug, glug, glug — into two glasses. She picked up one and handed it to Aaron, who took it, and she picked up the tray of orangey puff balls and they walked to the living room.
Aaron and Emma settled into their seats and Emma offered a cheesy puff ball to Aaron. Aaron reached for one.
“What’s this called?”
“Gougere,” Emma replied. Aaron, who didn’t speak French, was impressed by Emma’s accent.
Aaron took the cheesy ball into his finger and put it to his lips. He bit off a piece. It came away in a flaky, flavorful chunk.
“Wow, Emma,” Aaron said. “That’s delicious.” He took another bite, and another. Aaron looked at Emma and smiled with the savory pieces of baked cheese in his mouth.
Emma held a cheese ball in her hand, but her attention was on Aaron, not the appetizer.
“It’s been a long time, Aaron,” she said.
“Too long,” he said. “Sorry about that. My internship keeps me working like a dog.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. Emma looked at Aaron intently. She shifted in the seat across from him and Aaron couldn’t stop his eyes from glancing at her legs. The skirt rode high on her smooth thighs as she sat.
“Any time for love life?” Emma asked. “Are you seeing anybody?”
“Love life? What’s that?” Aaron asked, laughing. “I can’t remember my last date. I’m a medical intern, remember? What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I’ve had a couple of dates in the last two months,” Emma said. “But nobody special. Nobody that’s caught my eye. Riley tried to set me up with a guy she knew, but that didn’t work out.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Aaron said. “Guess we’re just unlucky in love right now.” Aaron was sure men must have been beating a path to Emma’s door, so she must have been very picky not to have a boyfriend.
“I have to get something,” Emma said, interrupting their conversation. Her legs swept wide as she turned away from Aaron to rise off the sofa, and Aaron caught a brief but clear look at pale pink panties under Emma’s miniskirt.
I’ve got to stop doing that, he said to himself. But he did not stop. His eyes stared between his sister’s legs while the panties were in view. When she rose and turned away his eyes followed her ass. The short skirt covered little.
Aaron forced himself to look away from his sister. He looked around the room. He saw a black and white photo in a 5×7 inch frame on the side table next to the sofa on which he sat. It was a photo of him. Aaron had never seen it before. But he felt only a moment of confusion before realizing where and when it had been taken, and by whom.
Emma had taken the photo, on top of a mountain they had climbed together, four years earlier.
It was August. Emma was 18 and on her way to her first year of college. Aaron was about to start medical school. They decided to hike to the top of nearby mountain together, before either left for school.
Aaron drove his beat-up Hyundai for an hour and a half to the trailhead, arriving by early afternoon. He carried sandwiches and water for Emma and himself in his backpack. Clambering up the mountain, Aaron was struck by Emma’s high energy. Aaron walked at a steady pace, but Emma was everywhere — lagging behind him, pacing at his side, dashing ahead of him on gamine legs and nimble feet. When she went ahead, Aaron could not help but notice the perfect sculpture of her ass under the tight and brief blue Lululemon shorts, though he felt guilty about noticing. He tried to look away, but he could not. More than once he thought he noticed Emma’s ass wiggle as she hiked directly in front of him.
Aaron could not remember spending a more joyous day with his sister. They talked nonstop the whole way up the mountain, the August heat and sunshine beating down on them. Halfway up they sat down for a long lunch under the dappled shade of an oak. Emma talked about starting college in a few weeks. Aaron shared his worries about medical school. When done with eating lunch and talking about school, Emma thanked Aaron for bringing food for the hike. She told him she’d make it up to him sometime. They continued up the steep, dusty trail.
A coat of grime and sweat lay over their bodies by the time they reached the peak. They stood alone on the top. Already, the sun perched low in the sky, and it bathed the surrounding hills in a golden glow broken at irregular intervals by the shadows winding through the valleys below them. On its north side, the peak gave way abruptly to a cliff, hundreds of feet high, and Aaron and Emma walked to the edge and stood silently looking to its foot below.
Emma pulled out her little camera from Aaron’s backpack, asked Aaron to pose near the edge, and took a photo of him. He took a photo of her. She put the camera away and they walked again to the edge of the cliff, eyes scanning the olive mountains that rolled and rumbled to a hazy horizon in every direction.
Emma took Aaron’s hand, then, and she squeezed it hard. Whether it was from fear or joy or sheer impulsiveness, Aaron did not know, but he squeezed her hand back, and they glanced at each other.
The glance became something else, and before Aaron knew what he was doing he took hold of Emma by her hips and he kissed her, his lips barely brushing hers. Suddenly aware that he was kissing his sister, he started to pull away, but Emma grabbed him and pulled him back to her. She pushed her face toward his. They kissed again, this time harder and longer.
Kissing one’s sister was supposed to be disgusting, or boring. But kissing Emma was neither. When his lips touched hers, Aaron’s loins stirred, and his heart soared. A hundred feelings crowded his mind and his body, all of them bathed in warmth and golden light from the sun in the west. Best of all, Emma kissed him back. Her lips mashed against his and his arms went around her, cradling her back and shoulders. Somewhere in the back of Aaron’s mind the thought popped up that what he was doing was wrong, but the desire to kiss his sister pushed the thought back down. Aaron and Emma stood on the top of the mountain, lips and bodies together, with the sun going down, heedless of time and of other people and of other people’s rules.
When at last they pulled back, their eyes searched each other. They had no answers for what they had done or for their feelings about it. They said nothing to one another. They looked to the sun low in the western sky and knew they had better hurry down the mountain or soon they would be hiking in the dark.
For the several miles it took to get back to the car they hiked in silence, racing the oncoming darkness, feet tumbling over each other and minds scrambling to make sense of what had happened between them. By the time they reached the trailhead the deep gloom of twilight had settled over the mountain.
In the car on the way home, and during the four years that passed, neither Aaron nor Emma ever talked about what happened on the mountain. But Aaron never forgot about it.
Now, in his sister’s apartment, Aaron looked at himself in the photo, four years younger. In the photo he wore his hair longer and wavier than he did now. But it was his eyes that Aaron noticed. In the photo, Aaron stared directly into the lens, at the photographer. His sister. And his eyes shone with the unmistakable look of love.
“I’m back!” Emma called, breaking the spell that held her brother.
“You O.K.?” she asked, after Aaron shook his head and did not say anything.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to a colorful gift bag in her hand.
“It’s your present. I thought we’d open it before dinner.”
“Thanks,” Aaron said, taking it. He pulled the blue and white tissue paper out the top, and reached in. He pulled it out and opened it to reveal his present.
A stick of pink lip gloss.
“What is this, sis?” Aaron asked, shaking his head. Emma smirked at him.
“Don’t you remember?”
Aaron looked at the stick again and scowled, puzzled. His eyes went wide when he realized what it was.
“No way!” he said. “Is this what I think it is? My 15th birthday? How do you have this?”
Emma clapped her hands and giggled. She fell against the back of the sofa.
On his 15th birthday, Aaron, a shy, awkward, and, at that time pimply, teen, opened Emma’s present in front of twelve of his friends, and he pulled out a stick of lip gloss — the same one he held now. His friends howled with laughter and Aaron’s cheeks burned red with embarrassment. He tossed the lip gloss at Emma, and it hit her in the forehead. Later in the day, long after the party was over, he apologized to Emma for throwing it at her and even laughed about it a little, but he never saw the lip gloss again, until now.
Emma held her hand out.
“Here,” she said. “I’ve saved that for 11 years. I don’t expect you to use it, but you don’t have to throw it back at me. I’ll take it.”
He handed it to her. Emma popped the lid off and screwed the tip open, and she ran it over each lip, slowly. When she took it away her lips sparkled in the low light.
“I’m fooling!” Emma said. “That’s not really your present. That’s for later, and it’s real. I thought this birthday, out of respect for your old age, I’d get my prank done early.”
“I appreciate that, baby sister,” Aaron said. Emma’s lips shone with the succulence of a ripe, red plum.
“Now let’s have some more gougere!” she said. They finished off the tray of flaky cheese balls between sips of the cool white wine.
“I need to get back to the kitchen,” Emma said, when an orange film on the tray was all that was left of the gougere. “Care to join me?”
“Of course,” Aaron said. “That’s where all the great smells are. And your company, of course.”
Aaron followed Emma into the kitchen, trying with limited success to stop his eyes from straying to her ass. If it was warm in the living room, it was hot in the kitchen, and humid too, from the cooking. Emma lifted a lid off a large pot and beckoned Aaron to see what was in it. A thick, orangey-pink broth bubbled inside. A scent of the sea wafted to his nose. Emma turned the heat down.
“What’s that?” Aaron asked.
“Lobster bisque. You do like lobster, right?”
“I love it. Wow. That smells amazing.”
“It’s going to taste even better,” Emma said, grinning. “It will be ready soon.” Aaron watched Emma chop some vegetables and move pots around. She opened the oven to check something inside, and another burst of steam came forth. Emma peered into the oven, legs straight, bending at the waist, and the skirt rode far up her thighs, until a hint of pink panty showed itself again. Aaron, behind his sister, stared, intoxicated by the sight of his sister, the heat, and the swirl of smells in the small kitchen.
Emma unbent, stood up, twirled, and went back to preparing the food, seemingly unaware of the show she was putting on or her brother’s inability to look away from her. Aaron noted the speed and efficiency with which Emma moved around her kitchen.
She stopped moving, took a sip of wine from her glass, and stared back at Aaron. The expression on her face, playful a moment ago, was suddenly serious, almost worried. Aaron was startled at the change in her.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
Emma bit her lip and did not answer immediately.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “There is something. I’d like your help, but I feel funny about asking.”
Aaron was struck by the change in her tone. Emma seemed worried.
“Emma,” he said. “You shouldn’t feel funny. I’m your brother. You can tell my anything.”
Emma did not respond at first. She looked at the floor, instead. Then she looked at Aaron.
“The other day, I was . . . I was feeling myself. My boobs. I felt something.” Emma stopped talking and looked away from her brother to the kitchen wall.
“What . . . what did you feel?” Aaron asked. He waited, silent, for her to respond. He heard his heart pound while he waited.
“I don’t know,” Emma continued. “I thought I felt a lump. I wasn’t sure. I called my doctor and set up an appointment, but it’s a week from now. I’m kind of, like, freaking out.”
Aaron took a step closer to his sister.
“Oh, Emma,” he said. “I’m sorry. It’s probably nothing. But I’m sure the doctor can confirm that for you. I’m sorry it’s troubling you.”
“I know,” Emma said. “I might be worried about nothing. But I’ve got seven days to wait and it’s driving me kind of crazy. I was wondering . . . ”
Emma looked off to the side and back to her brother, and off to the side again.
“What?” Aaron asked.
Emma looked away from the kitchen wall to her brother’s eyes.
“I was wondering,” she said, pausing, “If you could help me know if there’s something there. I don’t want to wait another seven days.”
Aaron saw the worry in Emma’s face.
“I’m just an intern, Emma,” Aaron said. “It’s not my specialty. Your doctor will give you a better opinion than I can.”
“I know,” Emma said. “But I trust you. I know how smart you are, big brother. Can you just do this for me? Please?”
Emma’s eyes stared straight and unblinking into Aaron’s. It was a strange request, and his mind juggled the ethical implications of it, but with those eyes wide and open and bearing down on his he knew he could not say “no.”
“O.K.,” he said. “I guess. What do you want me to do?”
Emma did not hesitate. Her arms swept up and the tight white tank top rose with them. In a second it was over her head, and it went flying to the side and fell on the floor. Emma stood in front of Aaron wearing an underwire push-up bra.
Emma’s hands went behind her back, and Aaron noted the moment when the clasp was undone. The skimpy white bra shivered and slumped. Emma shrugged her shoulders and the bra gave way and in a moment it, too, was on the floor.
Emma stood in front of Aaron, topless.
Holy shit, my sister has nice tits, Aaron thought. Somehow, though he’d known her all his life, Aaron had not realized how large Emma’s breasts were. They were full and round and upright. They defied gravity with the arrogance of youth. They stood firm and away from her torso, the nipples long and pink and hard. When he realized he was staring at his sister’s breasts he looked up at her face, and she was looking at him.
“Emma,” he said. “I don’t know about this. I’m not an expert on breast inspections. I’m just an intern, and it’s not something I’m really trained to do.”
“You’ve done them, though, right?” she asked.
“Yeah. Some. Not a lot.”
“But you can do it, right?” Emma sighed. “I know it’s unusual, but I can’t bear to wait another week and I trust you. Please?”
Aaron couldn’t say no to his sister.
“O.K.,” he said.
He approached her. She turned to him and her breasts shook, slightly, in front of him. Aaron was a conscientious doctor, and he had seen many naked bodies, but he found it more difficult than normal to look at his sister’s nude torso with a purely objective, medical eye.
“Which one?” he asked.
“The left one,” she said, inclining her chin toward it.
He put both hands on her breast. With one hand he pushed against his sister’s breast and made small circles against her skin with three fingers, moving clockwise around the circumference. His hand moved deftly and quickly. He felt awkward and did not want to prolong the examination one moment longer than necessary. Finally, his fingers circled toward her aureole, and her nipple pressed down and sprung back up when his fingers passed over it. He moved his fingers around it and felt her carefully, and he took his hand away when he was done.
“I didn’t feel anything, Emma,” he said. “It feels fine to me.”
Emma closed her eyes and sighed loudly, relieved.
The buzz of an alarm sounded on the oven. Emma jumped, and her breasts jiggled.
“That’s dinner!” she said. “I have to take it out.”
Emma reached to the floor, grabbed her white top, and pulled it back over her head, pushing the hem down until it sculpted and molded her torso again. She did not look quite the same as before, Aaron noted. She had not put her bra back on. The natural and no longer pushed-up contour of her breasts made that clear, as did the pokey nobs pushing up against the white cotton of the tank top where her nipples lay under it.
Emma slipped on oven mitts, opened the oven, and leaned over to retrieve the rectangular dish. Aaron was startled at the prominence of her nipples, now in profile under the tank top.
“Voila!” she said, setting the dish on an empty stove top burner.
Aaron was getting increasingly agitated at seeing his sister this way. His mind still reeled at having seen — and felt — Emma’s bare breasts just a minute earlier. He had turned off his doctor mode and was back to being a brother who was not accustomed to seeing his sister’s bare, full breasts. But Emma’s attention was fixed on the food. She leaned over the pot containing the bisque. Aaron noticed gentle bubbling on its surface. Emma closed her eyes and smelled the aroma coming up from its surface. She seemed pleased. With the mitts still on her hands she picked up a heavy spoon, dipped it into the bisque, and raised it to her mouth.
“It’s almost done,” she said. “I’ll let it simmer for a few minutes. The beef bourguignon should stay hot under the lid. The potatoes should be fine, too.”
The smells coming from the stove top were heavenly. They almost diverted Aaron from his feelings about his sister. It was all Aaron could do to keep his eyes on his sister’s face, and not her tits, pointing straight at him.
“Are you O.K.?” she asked. “You look pale.”
“Well,” he said. “It’s just . . ..”
“I know,” she said. “That was a little weird. I’m sorry if it bothered you. But it’s a big relief to me.”
She stirred the contents of the pot with a large wooden spoon.
“So, Aaron –” Emma began, and stopped.
“Yes?” Aaron asked, grateful she seemed to be about to change the subject.
“I noticed you looking at the photo of you in the living room. The one I took of you four years ago.”
Emma had Aaron’s attention.
“Yeah, I did,” he said. “What about it?”
“We never talked about what happened that day,” Emma said.
“What’s there to talk about?” he asked. “It happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But we can’t change it.”
Emma did not respond right away.
“You say it shouldn’t have happened,” she said. “But why not?”
Aaron was nonplussed. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean I’ve never regretted what happened on the mountain that day. Not for one moment. And you know what? I don’t think you regretted it either. If you say you do, I don’t believe you. You seemed pretty enthusiastic at the time.”
Aaron didn’t say anything for a while. When he did, his words came slowly and haltingly.
“Why do you bring it up?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
Emma looked away.
“I told Riley about what happened. She wanted to know all the details, so I told her. I told her everything. I told her about how good it felt when you put your hands on my side and you pulled me close when we were on top of the mountain. I told her how good it felt when we kissed. I was embarrassed. I thought she’d be disgusted, but I told her anyway. The words just spilled out. I couldn’t help myself.
“And you know what? She wasn’t disgusted. When I was done she had this huge grin on her face. And you know what she told me? She told me she’d had the hots for her brother for years. They’re twins. They’ve always been close. Once, not too long ago, they got a lot closer. She told me about it over a bottle of Chardonnay she and I finished off one night. She had her brother — Ryan — over for dinner. She seduced him over dinner. They ended up doing it on the floor of the living room. I was visiting mom and dad that night, so she and Ryan had the apartment to themselves.”
Emma paused and pointed vaguely in the direction of the other room.
“Do you know who she’s with right now? Her brother. She’s visiting him at his condo on the beach. They’re going to do it again. That’s what she says, anyway. I don’t know if he knows, but that’s her plan. And Riley’s pretty good at getting what she wants.
“Before she left, she told me I should seduce you. Riley always thought you’re kind of hot.”
“Kind of?” Aaron couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was struck dumb by what Emma was telling him.
“Well, big brother,” Emma said. “You are kind of nerdy. You’re good looking, but, you know.”
Aaron didn’t know what to say. He reeled at Emma’s words.
“Why are you telling me this, Emma?”
Emma said nothing. She looked away from Aaron, up at the ceiling. She looked to the stove top. The bisque bubbled. She grabbed a big spoon off the counter and dipped it into the bisque and put the spoon to her lips. Steam arose off the pinkish broth.
It was too hot, because when she put it to her lips she instantly pulled the spoon away and said “Hot!”
The spoon tipped, and bisque spilled onto Emma’s white top, over her left breast. She gasped, and she shrieked. “Hot!” she cried again. Steam arose over a large dark stain of bisque on the white top, directly over her nipple.
Without any hesitation, Emma whipped the top off and threw it to the floor. She was topless again, her breasts pointed firmly and saucily toward Aaron. A hot oily bisque stain coated her left nipple and the surrounding area of her breast. Steam rose off the stain on her nipple.
Aaron’s and Emma’s eyes locked, and he looked away from her to her breast.
“It’s burning me,” Emma said to her brother.
Aaron moved to her. He took her hips in his hand and his mouth went down, to her nipple, taking it in, sucking it in between his lips. His tongue went out and it caressed and slurped over the breast, covering every trace of the steaming bisque. When he pulled back, the bisque was gone from her breast, but his saliva remained. It sparkled in the kitchen light.
“Thank you.” Emma panted as she said it, her chest heaving.
Emma’s left hand shot forward and grabbed the short hairs at the back of Aaron’s head. Aaron did not move. With her right hand, Emma scooped up another spoonful of bisque from the pot. She brought it slowly toward her face, never taking her eyes off Aaron’s.
Then she poured half a spoonful of the steaming bisque in the spoon onto her right breast. She whimpered when it streamed over her pink nipple.
Aaron needed no further prompting. He pushed his head forward and closed his mouth over his sister’s right tit. He sucked up the bisque. Then he licked and cleaned up the residue that remained on her breast. Emma moaned while his mouth was on her.
Aaron felt both Emma’s hands at the back of his head, pulling on his hair and holding his face fast against her chest.
“Don’t stop, Aaron,” she said.
Aaron pulled his mouth away from her sticky breast. “You don’t stop, either, Emma.” His mouth went back to her, his tongue lapping over her nipple, her areola, and the lambent skin of her breast. His hand pushed the breast up, so he could run his tongue along the underside of it. When his mouth reached her nipple again he bit down on it, gently, but with just enough force to make her whimper. After biting her tit his mouth watered over it and his tongue pushed it back and forth.
When he was done feasting on her breast he pulled back, but only for a moment. He saw the look in her eye, and she saw the look in his. They pulled their faces toward one another and kissed, open mouthed, tongues out and searching one another, arms around each other, grasping and pulling.
Aaron felt a hand on his crotch, searching and then squeezing. The hardness straining against his pants was uncomfortable. But Emma was there to relieve his discomfort, fumbling with his belt until he felt it loosened, and then frantically unbuttoning and unzipping him. Emma succeeded, but then she shifted her attention. Her hands went to his shirt, pulling it up from the bottom. Aaron raised his arms and Emma pulled it over them and off him. They were both topless.
Emma’s eyes twinkled, and Aaron saw her grab the spoon and dip it into the bisque. She moved it toward him, the stainless-steel sparkling under the kitchen light. With her free hand, Emma pushed against Aaron’s bare chest. He gave way, pushing back against the chair.
Emma poured the bisque over Aaron’s chest. He cried out at the touch of the neat-scalding liquid on his skin.
Emma came to his rescue. She dropped the long spoon on the floor and pressed her mouth over her brother’s bare chest. Her tongue lapped up the bisque everywhere it found it: on Aaron’s nipples, on his lean and firm pectoral muscles, on his abdomen. Emma’s tongue scoured Aaron’s body in rapid, eager slurps. Soon the bisque was gone, but his chest was sticky with the residue of the bisque and his sister’s saliva.
Emma wasn’t done. Her hands fumbled over his pants, loosening the button and pulling the zipper down. Her hands found the belt loops of his pants; she pulled them down his thighs. He resisted at first, but then he lifted his butt off the floor and let his sister have her way. In a flash Aaron lay on the floor of his sister’s kitchen, stripped down to black boxer briefs.
Emma jumped on him. She pressed her bare chest against his. She grabbed his face, hard, and she kissed him, even harder. Her body writhed on top of his. Her face mashed against his.
They went on like that for a few minutes, twisting and pressing against each other. A bout of panic hit Aaron. He pushed Emma up and away.
“What are we doing?” he asked. “What is this?”
Emma didn’t answer him right away. She stared at him, the expression on her face in flux: amusement, desire, and curiosity playing over it in equal parts.
“We’re having dinner, big brother,” she said, finally.
I have to stop that, he thought. But he didn’t stop.
He stood up to resist the temptation to keep looking up her skirt, but it didn’t help much. He stood uncertainly to the side of the kitchen, his eyes on his sister, topless and long-legged in the tiny skirt. Against his will, his eyes zeroed in on her breasts, swaying from side to side as she tended to the food on the stove top.
Emma pulled two soup bowls out of a cupboard and poured the steaming hot bisque into them with a long-handled ladle. She flicked a dollop of crème fraiche from a small spoon into each bowl.
“Take a seat,” she said, gesturing with an elbow to a circular table centered in a small dining room opposite the kitchen. Aaron walked to the table and took the chair on the far side, so he could watch his half-nude sister, still cooking in the kitchen. The table was sturdy and made of dark, fine-grained wood.
For a few minutes Emma did not look the part of seductress, despite her toplessness. She was a chef, an artist, in her element, gathering the food she’d cooked with expert economy and grace. She opened a stainless-steel bread maker and pulled out a loaf. She plopped it into an oblong wicker basket. Steam rose off its crust, and its scent carried across the room to Aaron’s grateful nose. He closed his eyes and breathed in. When he opened his eyes, she was carrying the bowls of bisque and the bread loaf basket on a large platter to the table. She set the table and with a long plastic lighter lit two tall skinny candles in pewter holders. She backed up a few steps to turn the kitchen lights off. Their dinner was lit only by the flicker of light from the candles and the soft glow coming from the living room.
“Dinner is served,” Emma said. “Bon Appetit.”
She didn’t sit down immediately. Instead, her hands went to a button at the front of her skirt. The button popped out of its hole. Emma shrugged her hips. The skirt fell down her legs, to the floor. She stepped out of it. She wore only pink lace panties and high heels.
“Do you like them?” she asked Aaron.
“Like . . ..” Aaron’s head swam.
“My panties,” Emma replied. “Do you like them?”
Emma turned around, and Aaron’s gulped as he saw the way the thin band of pink lace low on her waist disappeared into the crack of her ass. Emma’s ass was perfect. Everything about her was perfect. As beautiful as she was under the bright kitchen light, she was bewitching under the uneven and flickering light of the dinner candles.
“You look amazing, Emma,” Aaron said. He didn’t know what else to say.
“Thank you, Aaron,” she said. “I wanted to look good for your birthday.”
Instead of sitting down, she approached Aaron’s side of the table and reached for the bottle of red burgundy. She bent in an exaggerated manner at the hips to pour the wine slowly into her brother’s glass, and Aaron could not help but notice the perfection with which her breasts hung from her body in front of him, the sharp points of her nipples aimed at the table surface. When she was done she circled around to her side of the table, poured wine into her own glass, and sat down.
She raised her glass.
“To my big brother, Aaron,” she said. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks,” Aaron said, weakly. It was surreal — his sister in front of him, nearly naked at the dinner table.
“I’ll bet you didn’t expect this for your birthday,” Emma said, eyes sparkling in the candlelight.
“Uh, no,” Aaron said. “I didn’t know what to expect, but I didn’t expect this. You were always good at surprises, but this is the biggest one yet.”
“I always liked keeping you off balance,” she said.
“You always did. You still do.”
“You were easy to keep off balance. You were so serious. Always studying. It was so much fun teasing you and fooling around with you.” Emma paused and smiled. “I was a brat, wasn’t I?”
“God yes,” Aaron said. “You were such a brat. It seems charming now, I guess, when I think about it, but it didn’t seem charming at the time. Just annoying.”
“I liked annoying you. I didn’t mean anything harmful by it. I always wanted to get your attention. Sometimes it was so hard. You were always focused on something.”
Emma paused. Aaron ate a few spoonsful of the bisque, watching Emma’s breasts rising and falling with her breaths. Emma ate too, but her eyes seldom left his. Emma broke the silence.
“That’s what I can’t figure out,” she said.
“What?” Aaron asked.
“What you did on the mountain. My serious, studious, older brother. Who never broke a rule. But you grabbed me and kissed me. What made you do that? I never asked you. We never talked about it. It’s driven me crazy ever since — wondering why you did that.”
“I don’t know, Emma,” Aaron said, looking down at his plate.
“I don’t believe that, Aaron,” Emma said. “I think you do know. Maybe you don’t want to say what you know. But I think you know. You don’t want to say it. But I want to hear you say it. Why did you kiss me, Aaron?”
Aaron looked up from his plate to his sister. His eyes swept her nearly nude body, pausing over her full breasts and hard nipples before they settled on her eyes, staring intently at his.
“I don’t know why I kissed you, Emma,” he said. “That’s the truth. Before that day, I would have thought anybody who predicted something like that would be crazy. I always knew you were pretty. But I never looked at you that way. But that time on the mountain . . . it was different. You were sweaty and dirty. And you were my sister. But you were so beautiful. That’s what I remember. Your face in the light of sunset. Your body. I didn’t have a girlfriend at the time. But when I saw you there, on the top of the mountain, I thought, that’s what I want a girlfriend to look like. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Aaron,” Emma said. She shifted her attention to the food. “We better eat before it gets cold.”
Emma and Aaron ladled spoonsful of bisque into their mouths for a few minutes. The taste was subtle and exquisite, but Aaron had difficulty paying attention to his food, as delicious and aromatic as it was. He kept sneaking glimpses of his topless sister across the table. Every time he did, he saw her catch him looking at her. She smiled.
Emma shook her shoulders when Aaron looked up from his bisque at her. Her breasts swayed, and he caught himself starting to moan with desire. Emma grinned. Then she leaned forward. Her breasts fell away from her chest, and she aimed one hard nipple at the bowl of bisque below her. She dipped it in, swirled it in the bowl, and withdrew it. A firm pert breast was coated in the orangey-pink bisque. Emma tore off a piece of steaming French bread, and she rubbed it over her nipple. The flaky fresh dough soaked up the bisque. Emma leaned across the table, and she offered the soaked bread to her brother’s mouth, which was open in surprise and need. He couldn’t resist. He opened his mouth wider, and Emma pushed the piece of bread in. He savored the soft texture of the bread and the flavor of the bisque, knowing it coated his sister’s tit a moment before. He swallowed and closed his eyes.
This can’t really be happening, can it? he asked himself. His beautiful sister was sitting across the table wearing nothing but pink panties. The culinary assault on his senses scrambled his brain and made it difficult to think straight. Even when his eyes were closed the steamy, fishy scent of the bisque filled his nose.
Aaron opened his eyes, to see Emma standing up from the table.
“Time for the next course,” she said.
She pushed her chair back and walked around the table to within a few feet of Aaron. She hooked her thumbs around the skinny sides of her panties.
“I won’t be needing these for the next course,” she said.
With that, she pushed the panties down her legs, fast, and in two seconds they lay pooled at her ankles. She stepped out of them. Aaron’s sister was naked. For the first time in his life, Aaron saw Emma’s pussy. A closely cropped, upside-down triangle of brown fur lay atop her pubic mound, but below that everything was shaved bare. The sweet, fleshy hood over her clit, the inviting swell of her lips, the secretive vertical slit that lay between them — all were exposed to Aaron’s gaze. It was the sweetest and most delicious thing he’d ever seen. With extreme effort he looked up from between her legs to her face, which was fixed in a lascivious smile.
“Do you want to eat the next course?” Emma asked him.
“Sure.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Emma turned away, walking back to the kitchen. Aaron turned around in his chair to follow the sight of her bare ass, ripe and perfectly round, swaying with each step.
After a few minutes over the stove, Emma returned, a white serving dish in each mitten-covered hand. Aaron had never been served dinner by a nude woman before, and the smells rising from the hot dishes of mashed potatoes and beef bourguignon reached his nose before his nude sister reached the table.
Emma set each dish on a metal trivet on the table before her brother. She leaned over, showing off her breasts falling away from her chest for Aaron’s benefit, and Aaron sat transfixed as she spooned big portions of the two dishes onto the plate before him. When she was done she walked around the table, next to her chair, and she spooned food onto her own plate as well.
She didn’t sit down, though. Aaron wanted to dig into the food, the scent of which was driving him crazy with hunger, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Emma. Then Emma did something that surprised him — he marveled at the fact he still could be surprised. She put both hands on the table and jumped onto it. When her butt hit the table, she swiveled around so her feet were pointed toward Aaron’s side of the table. She spread her legs, and she pushed herself toward her brother. She stopped when her high heels hung off the table to either side of him.
“Push forward,” Emma said. “A little closer.”
Aaron did as she asked. Emma put her heels against either side of his chair.
“You remember when I said your real present was coming later?” she asked. “Well, here it is. I’m your present, big brother.”
Aaron tried to say something, but the words caught in his mouth and emerged as nothing more than a faint croak.
Conflict wracked Aaron’s insides. On the one hand, his sister sat naked and exposed to him on the table, and the brute man in him savored the sight of her bare pussy lying open to him just behind the dinner plate. But Aaron was a neat freak with obsessive-compulsive tendencies. That part of him was troubled by the sight of Emma’s bare ass against the dinner table, just inches from his food. He didn’t know what to say or how to respond.
“Emma –,” he started to say.
“Don’t say anything,” Emma said. “Not yet. Let’s eat some food.”
She picked up her glass of wine, and she held it in front of her. Aaron followed her lead and they clicked their glasses together.
“Cheers, big brother,” Emma said.
There was something about the way she said “big brother” that got under Aaron’s skin. It unnerved him. It aroused him. It was strange to feel like his sister was in control and he was on a ride, not knowing where it would go, wondering what was around the next turn.
Aaron tipped his glass back and drank a sip of his wine, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the lithe, nude figure of his sister on the table in front of him. She was mesmerizing — breasts full and quivering slightly under the rise and fall of her breathing, eyes sparkling under the candlelight, and legs parted to him, showing off the bare, fleshy lips of her sex.
Emma set her glass on the table and picked up a fork. She twirled it and it gleamed in the dim light.
The tines of her fork speared a thick succulent chunk of beef, which she brought to her mouth. Her eyes stayed fixed on Aaron’s the whole time. Her lips closed around the morsel of meat, and it disappeared, leaving a drop of russet juice at the edge of her mouth. It dripped toward her chin until Emma touched a finger to it, swiped it, and put the finger in her mouth. She let out a loud “smack.”
Aaron followed Emma’s lead, eating pieces of the beef — which was exquisite -while not taking his eyes off Emma.
Aaron and Emma ate like that for several minutes, Emma forking up chunks of beef between spread legs, Aaron alternating between savoring the delicious flavor of the meal and staring at the delicious sight of his sister’s exposed pussy.
Emma speared a large chunk of the piece of beef with the tines on her fork. Instead of bringing it to her mouth, she held it forward, toward Aaron’s mouth. Aaron inclined his head forward to take it, but Emma pulled it back. She held the fork with the speared beef chunk in front of them. She dipped the fork down, between her legs. Aaron watched in disbelief as she inserted the chunk of beef at the end of the fork into her pussy, between her lips. It disappeared briefly as the lips closed around it until she pulled it out again. Shiny traces of grease and sauce remained at the entrance of her pussy as she pulled the fork away. Emma held the fork up, in front of Aaron’s face.
Aaron’s eyes didn’t leave Emma’s as he pushed his face forward and closed his mouth around the savory beef chunk. He chewed it slowly, aware that he was tasting Emma’s pussy along with the beef bourguignon. He couldn’t say anything.
Emma fed several chunks of the beef to her brother in the same way. Soon her pussy was a mess of sauce and grease. But Aaron kept eating. His eyes wandered to his sister’s greasy, messy pussy, but most of the time they stayed fixed on her eyes.
Emma paused. Aaron waited for what was to come next.
“Do you want some wine?” she asked.
“I think that would be the perfect pairing with dinner so far,” he said.
Emma reached forward and picked up Aaron’s wine glass rather than her own. But instead of giving it to him, she pulled it back, close to her body, and she leaned back. She held the glass over her left breast. With agonizing slowness, she tilted it over her body. The rich, ruby liquid, sparkling in the candlelight, dripped out of the glass, splashing over the swell of her breast and coating her nipple before flowing down. She lay back at a shallow angle, so the wine didn’t flow too quickly; it meandered its way down her skin, an irregular and unpredictable channel of liquid flowing down her abdomen, over her belly button, toward the junction between her legs.
Aaron watched, mesmerized. The flow of the wine slowed as it approached the place between her outspread thighs. But It got there, eventually, and when it did Aaron saw the wine flow over her clit and down into her pussy. Emma held her legs far enough apart that the stretch caused her pussy to open, and the wine flowed into, darkening and wetting the sparkly pink inside her. From there it dripped onto the table.
Emma smiled at Aaron, a Mona Lisa smile, a smile that combined desire and lust and mystery and emotions and longings that until today Aaron had no idea existed. But he was getting up to speed fast.
“You’re supposed to drink the wine, not just look at it, big brother,” Emma said.
Aaron needed no further prompting. He jumped out of his seat and grabbed Emma’s thighs, holding them apart. He pressed his face forward, to the open, greasy gash between her legs. He pushed his tongue out, as far as it could go, until it met Emma’s flesh. He licked her.
Aaron started low, lapping up the sauce and wine and grease at the bottom of his sister’s pussy, and then working his way up one side of her swollen labia, and then the other. He pulled back to look at Emma’s pussy. It was a precious flower, its petals wet and sparkling in the candlelight with the food and drink Emma had splashed over it. He looked up at his sister’s face and she looked down at him with hunger and need. He looked back at her pussy and his tongue went forward, its tip entering her at her deepest point. When his tongue went in as far as it could go he held it there. Aaron closed his eyes, so his sense of sight would not interfere with the delicious taste, scent, and touch that Emma’s open pussy offered him. His tongue flicked up and down, back and forth. He pulled it out of her, and his tongue made tight circles around her clit, each circle faster than the last.
Aaron never had tasted pussy and red wine before, but the combination was exquisite.
Emma moaned and stretched back, her hands behind her on the table. Aaron looked up from his sister’s pussy to her body stretched before him. Her breasts stood out as ripe fruit and her nipples were hard red gumdrops.
Aaron went to work on Emma’s clitoris, using one hand to push the hood back and using his tongue to lap and flick rapidly over the pearl underneath it. Emma’s body reacted, and she tried to pull back, but Aaron put a hand against her ass to hold her to him. His tongue kept at her.
Emma’s moaning grew louder and faster. Aaron’s tongue stayed on her. Aaron and Emma worked together in a fast but regular rhythm, so his tongue never left her clit. He felt her start to shake, her body spasming without regard to any rhythm they’d started. Her body lifted, off the table, and she cried out, and amid all the wine and grease and sauce Aaron tasted a new wetness issuing from Emma’s depths. As she bucked against him in orgasm he moved his mouth down and off her clit, so he could suck up and swallow her ejaculate. He lapped it up hungrily. He swallowed everything he could.
When he was done, he pulled his mouth away from his sister and sat back in his chair. Emma still moaned, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Aaron noticed the way the low light played irregularly off his sister’s full breasts.
For a full minute they sat like that, neither of them doing anything else.
The quiet interlude ended, and Emma exploded off the table, startling Aaron. She jumped off to the side of him, and she knelt by his knees. Two nimble and needy thumbs hooked their way under the waist bands of Aaron’s briefs, and she pulled. Aaron lifted off the chair to let Emma have her way, and she stripped his underwear down his legs and to the floor.
They were both naked. Aaron’s cock stood up from his lap, wobbling back and forth but always pointing at the ceiling. Emma’s eyes darted between the hard cock and her brother’s eyes. Aaron looked at the hunger in his sister’s eyes and expected her full and ripe lips to clasp his engorged cock at any second, but she didn’t do that. Instead, she gave him a mischievous smile and stood up. She turned to the table.
Emma picked up Aaron’s soup spoon, and she dipped it into his bowl of bisque. She held the spoon over his cock, six inches above it, and began to tip it. Aaron felt his body clench as he wondered how hot the bisque would be on his skin. Emma tipped the spoon and the bisque flowed in a thin stream until it hit his hard shaft. Aaron gasped. It was hot; but it was bearable. He saw the smile twist on his sister’s face. She scooped up more bisque and poured it on him again. And again.
When she was done, his cock, standing straight up, was coated in the bisque. Emma put her spoon down. She knelt at Aaron’s side, looked up at him with a fey grin, and put her face in his lap. Her tongue met his cock.
She bypassed the head, licking the shaft instead, in broad strokes, taking in most of the cock’s length, from the base to the edge of the head, but not quite licking the engorged head yet. Instead, Emma licked up and down, adjusting sideways at the end of each stroke until her tongue had licked most of the bisque off his shaft. Aaron sat transfixed at the sight of his sister’s mouth on his sex and the sticky delicious feel of her tongue. He groaned. Emma smiled in response.
“You like that?” she asked.
“Oh, Emma, you have no idea.”
“I think I do, actually. I felt your tongue on me a minute ago, and that was one of the best things I ever felt. I’m just returning the favor.”
“You’re doing that, and then some,” he said.
She grabbed his shaft hard with her hand, leaving only the bulbous head visible. She squeezed, pushing the blood up and into the head and engorging it more. A pin drop of precum trickled out of the hole in Aaron’s cock tip.
Emma’s head went down again, and this time her lips closed over the full head of his cock. Aaron felt her mouth take him in, slurping up the remaining bisque and engulfing him slowly. He looked to his lap to see his sister’s cheeks swell with his length inside her. She pulled back, revealing Aaron’s length, now sucked clean.
My sister’s sucking my cock, Aaron thought. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Aaron was on sensory overload, with the scents of Emma’s kitchen in the air, the taste of the beef in his mouth, and the sweet press of Emma’s mouth on his shaft.
She picked up the pace, and her thumb and forefinger formed a tight circle around the base of his shaft and squeezed. Aaron gasped at the sensation. Emma really knew what she was doing. He wondered how much practice she’d had.
Enough, he thought.
Aaron felt the quickening inside him and knew that the explosion would come soon. He didn’t want that, yet. He wanted to keep going. But his sister’s fast pumping of his hard shaft with her mouth would soon frustrate his attempts to delay the inevitable.
Without warning, Emma pulled her mouth off Aaron. She stood up, her magnificent body perched on high heels and bathed in uneven candlelight. She arched her back and pushed her breasts out for Aaron to see her. Then she pushed forward, grabbed the sides of his chair, and pulled and twisted it with more strength than Aaron would have guessed her to be capable. The chair legs screeched across the floor. A wicked grin stretched over her face, and she sat down on Aaron’s lap. Aaron’s cock nestled between the gap in her thighs, its tip lightly touching her the bottom edge of the close-cropped patch of fur.
Emma pulled the tureen with the mashed potatoes closer. She held a shiny serving spoon in front of Aaron’s face.
“Next course,” she said.
She ladled up a spoonful of the potatoes and slapped it against her nipples in quick succession. Most of the potato stuck against her breasts, but some of it streamed down her breasts and torso in a thick mix of potato, cream, and butter.
“Eat,” Emma said.
When Aaron hesitated, Emma took her spoonless hand and grabbed the back of Aaron’s head and pressed it to her chest. Aaron mouth closed over the fluffy potato and cream mixture and sucked and chewed it. His teeth almost bit down on a nipple, but he stopped them from closing just in time and gave the nipple no more than a light nibble. Emma whimpered.
When he was done she splattered Aaron’s chest with potatoes and ate them off his chest as he’d eaten off hers. They went back and forth like that, several times. After eating and sucking another helping of potatoes off Aaron’s chest, she scooped up another spoonful, but this time she brought it between her thighs rather than to her chest. She pushed the tip of the spoon into her pussy and pulled the spoon back for Aaron to see.
“Use your fingers,” she said.
Aaron dipped three fingers under and through the fluff of potatoes and into her. His fingers curled, and he scraped the walls of her sex on either side, getting as much of the potato as he could.
When he was done, Emma put her spoon down and scooped up more potato, this time with her hand. Aaron winced. Everything Emma did was unbelievably arousing, but the unconventional way she was doing it violated every dinner table convention he could imagine.
She pressed her hand to his mouth.
Aaron did, slowly at first, until he felt the thick scoop being pressed into his mouth.
“Don’t swallow yet,” she said.
Emma pressed her mouth against Aaron’s, full of mashed potato. She pushed her tongue in and he felt it swirl against his, pushing around the creamy, buttery food. Aaron had never shared a mouthful of food with anyone. The thought would have been disgusting to him, but it wasn’t disgusting now. He pushed his tongue back against hers. They alternated between touching their tongues and swallowing the food their mouths shared.
When they were done they pulled back.
“My God, Emma. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s like a dream. And it’s going to get better now.”
With that, Emma pushed up on her heels, took his cock in her hand, and scooted closer to him on his lap. The tip of his hardness pushed against her messy but open sex. Emma let herself down, easing her opening onto his cock. They both watched the cock disappear into her, its width pushing aside remnants of the mashed potatoes.
She bit her lip and grinned.
“Time for the main course.”
Emma rose and fell on her brother, starting slowly but gradually picking up speed. Their bodies, coated in food and sauce, slapped together.
No sex ever had felt so good to Aaron. He stared at the steady bounce of his sister’s breasts before him. Her hands gripped his shoulders. His hands held fast to her waist. When she lowered onto him, he pulled her down to ensure his cock pushed as deeply into her as possible. Emma let out a tiny squeal with each push.
“That feels so good, Aaron,” she said. “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”
“Not too big for your wet cunt, though, little sister,” he said. “Do you like that?”
“I like your cock in my cunt, Aaron,” she said. “You’re not the only one getting a present tonight.”
Aaron fucked Emma on his lap for several minutes like that, until he felt a need for something else.
“Up,” he said, lifting her at the waist. “I need to fuck you from behind. I need to see your pretty ass as I fuck you.”
Emma seemed to like the hard, insistent tone in her brother’s voice, and she jumped off his lap, spun around, and grabbed the table edge. She spread her legs wide and pushed her ass back and up toward her brother’s gaze. Aaron grabbed her at the hips again and pushed inside. They resumed rocking against each other.
Emma was tight but drenched with the combination of her arousal and the food and sauces sloshing inside her. Aaron had no trouble picking up the speed of his thrusting, and the rapid beat of his sister’s squeals at each thrust drove him crazy.
“Oh yes, Aaron,” she cried. “Fuck your little sister. Fuck my hungry little cunt.”
He did, over and over, pounding into her, eyes savoring the sweet pale flower of her upturned ass, her opening stretched tight around his shaft.
Emma removed a hand from the table and grabbed a bowl of the bisque. About a third of the bisque remained. She took the bowl and reached behind her, trying to steady it against the fast rocking of her body under Aaron’s furious assault. She poured the remains of it over her back. Aaron watched with fascination as the bisque fanned out in a broad channel over her lower back, flowing over her ass cheeks and down into the crevice between them. It continued in a narrow rivulet over her anus and down to her pussy. Aaron kept pounding fast at his sister, and drops and flecks of bisque sprayed in every direction where his cock slammed into her bisque-coated entrance. The rest of the bisque poured off her body onto the floor.
“Down,” he said. He gestured to the floor and pressed against his Emma’s sides. He’d taken charge, and Emma followed his lead without protest. She sank to the floor. Aaron sank, too, and he pressed her shoulders back until she lay supine against the checkerboard floor.
“You’ve got sauce on your shoes, Emma,” Aaron said. “Sure you don’t want to take them off?”
“They’re fine,” Emma said. “Let’s not worry about shoes.”
She held her legs high in the air and then spread them wide.
“You like?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I like the way your pussy opens up when you spread your legs like that.” Her whole body, but especially the folds of her pussy and the skin around it, glistened with sauce and grease in the candlelight.
“I like spreading my legs for you, Aaron,” she said.
“Keep spreading them like that so I can fuck you, Emma,” he said.
He put his cock tip at her opening and pushed inside her again. He went in easily. His chest fell over hers until it mashed against her breasts. He resumed fucking her. Her body slid around the slick, greasy floor, and it wasn’t easy holding her in place with his hands.
Aaron’s mouth descended on Emma’s as he fucked her. He pushed his tongue inside her. Their roles were reversed, and he’d taken charge. He felt the eager submission of her body to his. Half moans and grunts escaped their mouths as they fucked and kissed each other. Their bodies slipped and slid around the floor as moved together.
Aaron angled his cock so the top edge of it would slide against Emma’s clit. He wanted her to come. He felt Emma respond and angle her hips to increase the pressure. She moaned. Aaron did, too. He felt the orgasm coming, but he wanted to hold on until Emma came first. He raised his body over hers, his hands on the slick floor. Emma’s hands were pressed against his ass to hold herself against him.
Aaron pushed harder. He wasn’t going to be able to hold back long. But he didn’t have to. After a few more thrusts, Emma’s body gave way. She threw her head back and opened her mouth wide and squealed, and her body shuddered. Her pubic mound pushed hard into his as she grabbed his ass with animal ferocity.
That was enough for Aaron. He let go. He exhaled sharply as a thick jet of cum coursed through his cock and splashed his sister’s insides.
They spasmed against each other for nearly a minute, until Aaron couldn’t stand it anymore. He had to pull out. Sauce- tinted cum slicked his cock and trailed out the opening to his sister’s pussy. Aaron fell back against the floor, lying next to his sister.
“Happy Birthday, Aaron,” Emma said.
“That was the best birthday present ever.”
“You always said I was good in the kitchen. I guess you were right.”
“You were never better than tonight, Emma,” he said. “That was a great . . . dinner.”
“Chef’s special menu,” she said.
They lay together on the floor for several minutes, saying nothing. Emma turned on her side to cuddle with her brother. She lay a hand on his sticky chest.
“Mmmmm, big brother,” she said.
Aaron pushed himself up off the floor on one elbow. Sweat and sauce poured off his body as he sat next to his sister on the kitchen floor. His eyes swept over her bare skin. Emma was sweating, too. She looked at him. Aaron recognized the look. It was the look in his face in the photograph in the living room.
“Aaron, I have something to tell you,” Emma said.
“I . . . uh . . . I never really felt a lump,” Emma said, looking at the floor. “I was just fooling you.”
“Yeah?” Aaron challenged her. His eyes stared at her forehead as she looked away from him.
Aaron put his hand to Emma’s chin and tilted it, so she would look at him.
“You didn’t fool me,” he said. “I knew.”
Emma’s mouth opened in surprise.
“I may be a fool, sis,” Aaron said, his arms encircling her with renewed ardor. “But I’m not an idiot.”
Emma grinned and her eyebrows arched.
“Don’t I know it, my big smart brother,” she said, her hand squeezing him between his legs. “Guess you fooled me.”
They kissed again and their tongues touched. Aaron felt his sister’s tits mashed against his chest, and he thought to himself that nothing possibly could feel better than that.
They lay together on the floor for several more minutes, and then Aaron pulled away. He began to stand up, but Emma grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the floor.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.
“I’m messy,” Aaron said, looking over his body, enveloped in a shiny film of sauce and oil and cream and girl-cum. “I thought I’d clean up.”
“You’re not going anywhere, big brother,” Emma said. “It’s time for dessert.”
Added by Simon