30-06-2019, 02:07 PM
With a stifled cry he bent forward and thrust his face between her legs. He heard her gasp softly and felt her arch beneath him as he parted her cunt-lips the way he had seen men do in porn flicks, and his tongue thrust rapidly into her cunt. The musky taste of her made his head swim. She sucked harder still. Her hips began to writhe and buck under him, churning and grinding erotically.
He could not contain himself. Suddenly, without prior warning, he came, exploding violently, shooting his hot, thick load into her mouth, down her throat. Incredibly, he felt her continue her sucking, swallowing his shot, sucking and lovingly licking and lapping at his cock till she had taken every drop of it out of him. He continued to tongue-fuck her, grinding his loins against her face as much as he could, wanting to drown himself in her mouth.
And just then, he felt suddenly her buck harder and gasp and flood his mouth with her own juice and he thrust his face in firmly and sucked and sucked, drinking his fill of his sibling's coital nectar.
He rolled off her gently, panting, terrified, excited and, strangely, not the least bit repelled. He saw the shine of his gunk on her lips, the dribble of it on her chin and neck and breasts. And then he saw her smile to herself in her sleep, licking her lips, savouring his jizz. She turned on her side, as though nothing had happened.
Harry found it difficult to sleep. The memory of what he had done continued to haunt him, filling him with fear, terrified of the consequences should anyone find out. His own sister! He had fucked her mouth, tongue-fucked her cunt! He had come in her mouth! His own sister!
He did not know it, but she had been awake the whole time. The very idea of what he wanted had excited her, and the fact that it was completely *verboten* only added a fillip to her lust. Sheila saw nothing amiss - after all, she was already the neighbourhood whore, fucking servants and neighbours and even their own uncles. Harry was sexy and desirable and she saw no reason to deny herself satisfaction with him if that could be got.
Her orgasm had been intense, like his, her mind soaring and whirling as she felt his tongue in her cunt, his hard, lean body pressed hot against hers, his cock in her mouth, filling her very soul, hot and hard and throbbing till the final, electrifying release of his steaming jizz came, flooding her mouth and sending her into raptures of pleasure.
She knew, though, the distress this would cause if it ever came to light. To her mind, there was only one solution to the problem, and that was to sleep with him, to treat it as naturally as she did all her other sex. But not this night. It would have to be done slowly. Perhaps next week, or next month. In a while.
Harry never knew the truth of that night. The memory lingered, haunting, daunting, tantalising, exciting, terrifying, tormenting him.
Harry was immersed in an exceptionally erotic fantasy involving the maid Leela and a sexy young girl he'd just met in college, Audrey, when he heard strange sounds coming across the house. At first he didn't quite register the sounds: he was too busy imagining Audrey moaning and writhing ecstatically under him as he drove his cock in and out of her cunt while Leela sat on Audrey's face.
He knew Audrey had the hots for him. It was only a matter of time before he fucked her, but he didn't want to rush it. He was still a virgin and he wanted to fuck Audrey after he'd got some experience. How he was going to do that was a mystery, but he certainly wasn't going to risk being laughed at by her if she found he was inexperienced and callow. He'd have to get someone to take his virginity. Leela, perhaps. But how?
The sounds came through again, louder now, interrupting his reverie, unmistakably those of a man and a woman fucking. He knew such sounds from the pornographic movies he had seen. But, here, at home? Who on earth was it? The voice was familiar; very familiar. But ... but it couldn't be ... not Sheila. Not her, not his sister. She was in school. Not her.
He heard the voices again and now there was no mistake. It had to be Sheila. Sheila and a man. But who? There wasn't anyone home but him and the servant. The servant. Oh god. The servant.
Moving across the hall now, Harry heard the sounds again. He traced it to the second bedroom, the one used by his Uncle Calvin and his family.
Sheila was there all right. With a servant, but not their servant, not Ramu. Another servant, one from the neighbouring building, a chauffeur called Sharan. He hadn't heard the bell. She must have come in with him, and Ramu. His heart pounded as he edged closer to the door to get a better look. His palms felt clammy and he felt a rush of blood to his head and groin and found he had a massive erection.
Sheila was outrageously dressed in a pair of hot pants that were alarmingly short and a taut, body-hugging zip-up top with a high, winged mandarin collar. The top was of glossy black leather, and the zip was pulled low below her breasts. It squeezed her large breasts together; almost fully exposed, they strained at the taut fabric, forming a deep cleavage and oozing out of its confines.
Sharan was a tall, well-built young stud with round-faced good looks and a lean body. He had broad shoulders, a tapering torso and high hips. His chest was deep and cleaved, the belly hard,
the torso smooth and V-shaped. His hair was thick and swept back, the eyes small and watchful, the mouth hard, the jaw tough. His arms and legs were thick with muscle.
Sharan's khaki tunic was unbuttoned and Sheila's head was against his chest, her lips over one nipple, sucking on it, caressing the other with her free hand. Sharan smiled at her, his head bent, fondling her hair, stroking the exposed flesh of her wonderful breasts with his fingertips. He hooked two fingers in the zipper and slid it down with a loud *krrrrrrik*. The top split apart like a banana peel. Her breasts bounced out of their leathered nest and Harry saw that her nipples were already rock-hard. Sharan cupped and squeezed the fleshy mounds.
He could not contain himself. Suddenly, without prior warning, he came, exploding violently, shooting his hot, thick load into her mouth, down her throat. Incredibly, he felt her continue her sucking, swallowing his shot, sucking and lovingly licking and lapping at his cock till she had taken every drop of it out of him. He continued to tongue-fuck her, grinding his loins against her face as much as he could, wanting to drown himself in her mouth.
And just then, he felt suddenly her buck harder and gasp and flood his mouth with her own juice and he thrust his face in firmly and sucked and sucked, drinking his fill of his sibling's coital nectar.
He rolled off her gently, panting, terrified, excited and, strangely, not the least bit repelled. He saw the shine of his gunk on her lips, the dribble of it on her chin and neck and breasts. And then he saw her smile to herself in her sleep, licking her lips, savouring his jizz. She turned on her side, as though nothing had happened.
Harry found it difficult to sleep. The memory of what he had done continued to haunt him, filling him with fear, terrified of the consequences should anyone find out. His own sister! He had fucked her mouth, tongue-fucked her cunt! He had come in her mouth! His own sister!
He did not know it, but she had been awake the whole time. The very idea of what he wanted had excited her, and the fact that it was completely *verboten* only added a fillip to her lust. Sheila saw nothing amiss - after all, she was already the neighbourhood whore, fucking servants and neighbours and even their own uncles. Harry was sexy and desirable and she saw no reason to deny herself satisfaction with him if that could be got.
Her orgasm had been intense, like his, her mind soaring and whirling as she felt his tongue in her cunt, his hard, lean body pressed hot against hers, his cock in her mouth, filling her very soul, hot and hard and throbbing till the final, electrifying release of his steaming jizz came, flooding her mouth and sending her into raptures of pleasure.
She knew, though, the distress this would cause if it ever came to light. To her mind, there was only one solution to the problem, and that was to sleep with him, to treat it as naturally as she did all her other sex. But not this night. It would have to be done slowly. Perhaps next week, or next month. In a while.
Harry never knew the truth of that night. The memory lingered, haunting, daunting, tantalising, exciting, terrifying, tormenting him.
Harry was immersed in an exceptionally erotic fantasy involving the maid Leela and a sexy young girl he'd just met in college, Audrey, when he heard strange sounds coming across the house. At first he didn't quite register the sounds: he was too busy imagining Audrey moaning and writhing ecstatically under him as he drove his cock in and out of her cunt while Leela sat on Audrey's face.
He knew Audrey had the hots for him. It was only a matter of time before he fucked her, but he didn't want to rush it. He was still a virgin and he wanted to fuck Audrey after he'd got some experience. How he was going to do that was a mystery, but he certainly wasn't going to risk being laughed at by her if she found he was inexperienced and callow. He'd have to get someone to take his virginity. Leela, perhaps. But how?
The sounds came through again, louder now, interrupting his reverie, unmistakably those of a man and a woman fucking. He knew such sounds from the pornographic movies he had seen. But, here, at home? Who on earth was it? The voice was familiar; very familiar. But ... but it couldn't be ... not Sheila. Not her, not his sister. She was in school. Not her.
He heard the voices again and now there was no mistake. It had to be Sheila. Sheila and a man. But who? There wasn't anyone home but him and the servant. The servant. Oh god. The servant.
Moving across the hall now, Harry heard the sounds again. He traced it to the second bedroom, the one used by his Uncle Calvin and his family.
Sheila was there all right. With a servant, but not their servant, not Ramu. Another servant, one from the neighbouring building, a chauffeur called Sharan. He hadn't heard the bell. She must have come in with him, and Ramu. His heart pounded as he edged closer to the door to get a better look. His palms felt clammy and he felt a rush of blood to his head and groin and found he had a massive erection.
Sheila was outrageously dressed in a pair of hot pants that were alarmingly short and a taut, body-hugging zip-up top with a high, winged mandarin collar. The top was of glossy black leather, and the zip was pulled low below her breasts. It squeezed her large breasts together; almost fully exposed, they strained at the taut fabric, forming a deep cleavage and oozing out of its confines.
Sharan was a tall, well-built young stud with round-faced good looks and a lean body. He had broad shoulders, a tapering torso and high hips. His chest was deep and cleaved, the belly hard,
the torso smooth and V-shaped. His hair was thick and swept back, the eyes small and watchful, the mouth hard, the jaw tough. His arms and legs were thick with muscle.
Sharan's khaki tunic was unbuttoned and Sheila's head was against his chest, her lips over one nipple, sucking on it, caressing the other with her free hand. Sharan smiled at her, his head bent, fondling her hair, stroking the exposed flesh of her wonderful breasts with his fingertips. He hooked two fingers in the zipper and slid it down with a loud *krrrrrrik*. The top split apart like a banana peel. Her breasts bounced out of their leathered nest and Harry saw that her nipples were already rock-hard. Sharan cupped and squeezed the fleshy mounds.
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