SISTER SEX After School Job Brother & Sister {Part-8}

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  1. IncestMania

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    I knew something was up when, after her homework was done, Addie took one of the extra kitchen chairs and said, "I'm taking this to my room. I have to do some new stretching exercises, and I need to use the chair to put my leg up on, okay?"

    "Fine," said Dad, who was cutting up a roast he'd put in the crock pot that morning.

    She picked it up and took it to her room. Maybe ten minutes later she came out and started setting the table, working around me, since I wasn't finished yet.

    "What's going on?" I whispered.

    "You'll see," she said. "Hurry up."

    How do you "hurry up" homework? The only way I know is to pretend you're finished, but that comes back to bite you. The person who figures out how to hurry up homework and still absorb the information will be a zillionaire in about a minute, even if all he charges for it is a week's lunch money.

    As it turned out, Mr. Sayer's assignment to "Read two more chapters, and be ready to discuss the ramifications of mobility issues during the American Civil War," actually only translated into twenty pages in our history text book, and when she whispered in my ear I had already read sixteen of them. So, in the end, I did get finished quickly.

    We had supper, and Dad mentioned how we hadn't watched any Dr. Who for a while, at which point Addie said we should watch a couple of episodes. Dad said only one, and they argued about that for a while. And while they did that, I just sort of stared at my sister, because suddenly, she was two girls.

    Imagine if Superboy was real, and everybody saw him fly around, and then, one day, you saw him fly into the back of the house next door, and you found out that Charlie, next door, was actually Superboy. You've known him all your life, and joked around with him, and argued with him and called him crazy and climbed trees with him and all that kind of thing. And then, suddenly you find out he has this whole other identity.

    That's how I felt as I watched Addison argue with my father about how many episodes of Dr. Who we were going to watch on Netflix. She was still just Addison, my sister, the girl I'd known all my life. But she was also this beautiful, sexy, passionate girl who could make my penis get rock hard just by whispering in my ear, or reaching from her side of the car to touch my leg. In fact, as I thought about all this ... I got a boner.

    They settled on one episode, which will come as no surprise to any parents out there, and they got up to start getting the dishes in the dishwasher. I was expected to help them, of course, but I had this minor problem shoving the front of my pants into a tent. So while their backs were turned, I jumped up and hurried out, calling out that I was going to get the Neo box booted up and the next episode ready to stream.

    Addison, of course, complained that she was being left to do all the drudgery.

    My erection was under control by the time they came in.

    That lasted only as long as it took Addie to sit in the middle of the couch and pat the leather on both sides of her.

    "I want to sit between my two favorite men," she said, tossing her golden locks. "Who knows what terrors will be exposed tonight, and I may need to cling to the arm of a big, strong man."

    Dad stood there, looking at her. "Addison? Do we allow you to date?"

    She laughed. "Of course you do, Daddy. You know that. When I turned sixteen you and Mom said I could go on two dates a month."

    "One date every six months," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

    Of course she all but exploded. "What? Why? That's not fair!"

    "Because the little display you just provided convinces me that no mere human male could possibly resist your charms. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I am aware that girls your age have discovered that passion resides within them. As your father, it is my duty to insist this passion be contained, and to prevent it from being encouraged by some lust-maddened boy on a date. Thus, I must insist that dates be kept to the absolute minimum, lest I discover some hanky panky has taken place and be forced to hunt down and maim the misbegotten youth who engaged in it with you."

    Dad was like that. He could launch into a little diatribe like that in the blink of an eye. It was like he practiced them or something, and was just waiting for a chance to drop one on us.

    But Addie was used to it. She didn't blink an eye.

    "Be careful what you wish for, father. If I bottle all that passion up inside me, I may explode some day, and destroy the whole city."

    "There's that much passion in there?" he asked, scratching his head and looking at her askance.

    She patted the seat beside her again. "Sit down. All the blood must be pooling in your poor, old, wrinkled up feet, because your brain is being starved of oxygen if you think I'm only going on one date every six months."

    He turned and plopped down hard enough to make her body jump a bit.

    "I know," he sighed. "I just can't get used to the idea that you're not my little girl in pigtails any more. You're a model, for pity's sake. How's that going, by the way? You used to tell me all about it, but the last couple of times you guys have come home and haven't said a word."

    "Oh, you know," she said, dropping a hand on his thigh. "After a while it's not so exciting anymore."

    "Welcome to the work world," said Dad.

    Addie looked up at me and patted the empty seat beside her. I knew that as soon as I sat down, she was going to put her other hand on my thigh.

    The only reason I didn't sit down with a boner already, was because I kept wondering if she was causing one in our father too.



    Dr. Who was over. The Dalegs, or however you spell that, had appeared yet again, to conquer the universe, even though they'd been banished twice before. Between the Dalegs and the Cyber Men, the producers of that show got a lot of mileage out of their props. But then again, that was part of the charm of the show. They looked like the kind of props that would be in a B or C class movie. You know ... the kind that come on at one in the morning. I mean one of the weapons the Dalegs had was really just a toilet plunger. Or at least that's what it looked like. But the writing was incredible, and the acting was world class. And that was what made it fun to watch. At least fun to watch when your sister wasn't sitting beside you encouraging your pent up passion to be released.

    Addie left her hand on my thigh for most of the show. She stroked her thumb over the fabric of my pants just once, but that was all it took for me to be constantly aware that her hand was there, and that she was obviously in the mood to release some passion of her own later.

    As Dad punched the off button, we stood up.

    "It's bed for me," he said.

    "Me too," said Addison.

    "I guess I'm not going to wander around out here alone," I said.

    We walked to the hallway together, and then split, Addie and I going one way, and Dad the other. Addie leaned over and whispered in my ear.

    "Come to my room in twenty minutes."

    Have you ever tried to concentrate on reading a library book while you had a raging boner, and were resisting stroking the thing?

    It's an exercise in futility. Let me tell you that.



    I still had the erection when I slipped on my robe and opened my door to peer down the hallway. It was dark. I walked across the hall and almost knocked. It was ingrained. But I didn't want to make any noise, so I just turned the knob and went in.

    She was lying on her bed, stark naked, masturbating. Of course. I couldn't do that ... but she could. Girls have such an advantage!

    When I arrived, she happened to have two fingers deep inside her, and was sliding them in and out slowly. It shocked me, because while had seen her slip one finger in there, I'd never seen anything really go deep inside her. I had imagined pushing my rampant prick in there, but that was just fantasy. Actually seeing two fingers deep in her made it clear that ... well ... my prick would fit in that small, dark, tight hole. I liken it to the difference in seeing a rocket sitting on the launch pad, knowing it can blossom fire and shoot upwards into space, and actually seeing it blossom fire and shoot up into space.

    It causes something to kind of move around in your chest.

    The tip of her tongue was protruding from her lips, like she was concentrating on trying to remember something.

    "About time," she panted. "I was thinking of finishing without you."

    "Let's not be rash," I said. I opened my robe to show her my bone.

    She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and sat up, swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

    "Sit there," she said, pointing one lacquered (fake) fingernail at the kitchen chair I hadn't even noticed sitting a few feet away from her bed.

    "I could help you with what you were doing," I suggested, wagging my tongue at her.

    "Another time," she said, standing up. "Sit! I'm very horny right now."

    I didn't understand how me sitting in the chair was going to help her with her problem, but I moved to the chair and started to sit down.

    "Without the robe," she sighed, as if I were some kind of feeble-minded idiot.

    I shrugged it off and, imagining how cold that wood might feel against my naked butt and back, draped it over the chair. I sat.

    She walked over and straddled my legs, sitting gently on my thighs.

    At first, she just sat there, running her hands over my chest and shoulders.

    "You have such a beautiful chest," she said, softly.

    "Yours isn't so bad either," I said, staring at her breasts. Her nipples were thick and hard.

    She offered me one, arching her back, and I sucked at it happily. She shuddered, and scooted up, reaching for my cock.

    I got it then. In this position, it was easy for her to diddle herself with the tip of my penis, masturbating like she had when we lay in bed.

    "I love this," she moaned.

    I did too, but my mouth was full of nipple, so I didn't say anything. I did swirl my tongue around the nipple and then give it a little extra hard suck, though.

    She pulled back and made me switch nipples. My hands went to her hips. To this day, I still don't know why I put them there, but I did, and that proved to be kind of important. That's because after letting me love both her nipples for a while, during which she rubbed the shit out of her clit with the tip of my cock, she started kissing me and had an orgasm.

    And right in the middle of that orgasm, something inside me demanded more and I pulled with my hands ... hard enough, and at just the right time, to pull her towards me just enough that the head of my penis just sort of popped inside her.

    Understand that this wasn't an intentional kind of decision. It was more like instinct. So I wasn't expecting it any more than she was. Or wasn't. You know what I mean. The point is that, once it happened, I didn't know what would happen next. The obvious expectation would have been for her to get upset. Thinking back on it, that's the kind of thing I would have thought she was conditioned to do. But this begs the question, in terms of assuming we were thinking normally. Which, of course, we were not.

    She did not object vociferously. She did stop kissing me, and leaned back. She did look down, at where her hand was still wrapped firmly around my penis. I did too. It looked funny, because it looked like she was using her hand to prevent me from getting any further inside her. We both knew that an inch or two of my manhood had been protruding from her hand, which she had been using to rub all over her sex. And we both knew that inch or two was now inside her.

    "It's inside me," she panted.

    "Yeah," I said. What else was I supposed to say? That I was sorry? The problem there was that I wasn't. I knew I should be ... but I wasn't. Should I have offered to push her off of it? I knew I should do that ... but I had no interest whatsoever in doing so. So I just agreed with her.

    And then she calmly removed her hand from my cock, put both hands on my shoulders ... and hunched forward to gobble up the rest of my throbbing prick.

    I read somewhere that it is completely normal for the teenaged male to suffer premature ejaculation, and that it happens to over ninety percent of them.

    Turns out I'm completely normal.

    Of course "normal" as defined by human beings (primarily women, since they are the ones who actually suffer from premature ejaculation) is quite different than "normal" as defined by Mother Nature. Her intent is simply to get the sperm into the vaginal channel, so it can swim happily upstream to find an egg.

    Thankfully, the teenage male has capabilities that (sometimes) overcome the female's objection to the usual result of premature ejaculation. And whatever good old Mom Nature gave us, I stayed happily stiff as my balls did their thing and pumped however many ounces is normal of my semen into my sister's scorching hot depths.

    I don't know if she felt it, or was just excited to be doing what we were suddenly doing, but she started writhing against me, and humping her hips and crushed my body to hers, while she again kissed me.

    Dad was right. There is a ton of passion locked up in a girl her age, and it all came flooding out. I say flooding, because suddenly there were all these wet, squelching, liquid sounds coming from where we were joined.

    And it felt good. I won't deny that. But something happened to me that took it way beyond just "feeling good." I wanted more movement, or more feeling or whatever it was that just wasn't there. Since then I've learned that when you spunk in a pussy and keep fucking it, things are too slippery and you have to keep going until you either pack all that spunk into her womb or froth it out around her pussy lips so that there is more feeling. But at that point in time I was just a male who wanted more than was going on in that position.

    Which is why I stood up, crushing her body to mine, and walked over to flop down on top of her on her bed. We landed on her bottom, in a leaning back kind of position, with our legs off the bed. My toes found purchase on the floor and, suddenly, I found what I wanted - the ability to pound her with long strokes of my cock.

    It wasn't the most comfortable position for me, because I was holding up all my weight on my toes and stiff arms, sort of in a leaning pushup position. But I could hump the crap out of her, which is what I wanted to do just then, so I ignored the pain that built up in my arms.

    I was lucky, because that position was completely comfortable for her. Her upper torso was lying flat on the bed. Her butt was perched on the edge of the mattress, and her heels supported her legs on the floor. If anything, it made her mons jut out, so that every time I slammed against her I crushed her clit. Plus, to be perfectly honest, I think she just got off at being manhandled. It would turn out she liked rough sex, not every time, but sometimes. And because of that, she had another orgasm right on top of the one she was recovering from. And learning she could have multiple orgasms, that close together, was something that would be very important later on. After all, if a girl can't have an orgasm, how interested in sex is she likely to be?

    Anyway, I admit I went a little crazy. At least until I had another of my own orgasms. That one wasn't quite as much fun as the first one, because my body hadn't had time to refill the reservoir that holds the semen that gets squirted out. I got half of a good squirt, but then there was this sweet agonizing pain as I had what I later learned is called a "dry" ejaculation. Don't get me wrong. It was fantastic. But it also hurt. Which is confusing, but helps me understand just a teensy little bit about all that BDSM stuff you hear about. Well, I don't understand it, but it doesn't seem completely stupid any more. Or something.

    In any case, I had this painful, happy, agonizing, incredibly sweet orgasm and dribbled a few more sperms into her and then collapsed, rolling off of her instinctively, but then ending up sitting on the floor with my back against her bed. She didn't move. Her leg was right beside me, with the foot flat on the floor. She gave out a long sigh.

    "Shiiiiiit, Bobby!"

    I didn't answer. I was panting too hard to talk.

    "That was crazy!" she said, panting herself. "Let's do it again!"

    I managed a groan. The thought made my balls ache.

    Eventually, though, we caught our breath. I levered myself up, feeling suddenly like I was an old man or something. When I stood up, I looked at Addie, who was lying there, arms thrown wide, breasts still rising and falling two or three inches. Her legs were still spread, her heels on the floor. And her pussy was overflowing with creamy, milky jism.

    I had creamed inside my sister.

    I know I should have felt bad about that. But for some reason I still don't understand, all I wanted to do when I looked at that ... was put even more inside her. Maybe it's a product of the fact that the human brain doesn't fully mature until you're in your early twenties, and you just physically can't think as rationally as you'll be able to later. Maybe that's why so many teens make babies before they should. At least before our culture thinks they should.

    But I wasn't thinking about making babies. All I could think about was how fantastic that had been and, like Addison, how soon I wanted to do it again.

    Still, we both had been conditioned to know that what we had just done was wrong, meaning that nobody except the two of us would approve of it.

    "I'm sorry," I said, assuming for some reason that it was all my fault.

    "I'm not," she said. "I should be, but I'm not."

    "Are you okay?" I asked. Don't ask me what I thought might be "wrong" with her, except that I had been pretty violent.

    "I feel fantastic," she sighed. "I can't believe it fit in me so easily!" She sat up. White cream welled out of her pussy and dripped all over the edge of her bed.

    "Where are your clean sheets?" I asked, thinking about how we still hadn't washed the ones we'd soiled in my room.

    "Never mind that," she said. "I can't believe Daddy isn't already in here asking what the hell is going on. You better leave."

    I was rattled enough that I did exactly that. I put my robe on and went to her door.

    "Bobby?" she called, in a strident whisper.

    I turned to look at her. I wanted to take my robe back off and go lie on top of her again.

    "I'm really not sorry."

    "Okay," I said.

    I turned and left before the urge to drop my robe again overcame me.



    As strange as it might sound, I wanted to jack off when I got back to my room. Some of that was probably because I didn't find Dad in the hallway, on his way to investigate the sounds we had (probably) made. I don't know. But despite the urge to do that, I didn't try. My cock had fired off twice in a ten minute period, and it was actually a little sore.

    But I was too excited to just go to bed. I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on reading either.

    So I cleaned my room.

    I ended up staying up pretty late. I paid for that the next morning when Addie came to get me up. She was already dressed. She'd gone to the kitchen for breakfast and when I didn't show up, volunteered to come see why. She opened the door and yelled, "Hey. Get up. You overslept. Get a move on. We have to go!"

    I threw on some clothes and stumbled out to the kitchen, where Dad looked up from his paper and asked, "You okay?" I said I was, and went to get a bowl from the cupboard. Addison said, "Hurry up. I'm not going to get a tardy because you're too lazy to get up on time."

    In other words, she acted like my sister, instead of my lover, which was smart, but something I'm still amazed she was so capable of doing.



    She acted like my sister for the rest of the day. And night. Nothing happened that night. Except that I finally figured out she wasn't coming to my room. And, since she hadn't invited me to hers, I stayed in mine and jacked off. It was good, but not like doing it in her. No contest.

    She acted like my sister the next morning too, and all day at school. For that matter, she didn't show her passion on the way to Vlad's after school. Which is why, when we got there, I was completely unprepared when she went to stand in front of Vlad and ask him what she asked him.

    "Vlad? Would we get paid more for the naked shots if he actually put it in me?"

    I was astonished. And that's probably why I missed the fact that Vlad was not astonished.

    "But of course," he said, easily. "That is where the really big money is."

    "That's what you do with the others ... isn't it?" she asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

    "Addison, my sweet," he said. "I cannot discuss what the others do. Just as I could not discuss with anyone what you and your brother do."

    "How much more?" she asked.

    "Enough that you might have problems hiding it from your parents," he said, calmly. "Do they have access to your banking records?"

    "I think I still have a Christmas account," she said. "I haven't thought about that for years."

    "It would be enough to fund your college education," he said. "Can you put that much in the bank without someone asking questions?"

    "Are you saying you want us to do that?" she asked.

    "Of course," he said, suddenly willing to admit he was much more than a simple advertising photographer.

    "Can you keep paying us in cash?" she asked.

    "Of course," he said.

    "And you swear nobody in this country will ever see the pictures?"

    "Of course," he said again.

    I know what you're thinking. But we were kids. And we weren't used to adults just flat lying to our faces.

    Which is how I ended up fucking Addison in seven or eight poses while Vlad documented it all in crisp, digital images. He paid us both a thousand dollars in cash before we even started, and then, during the shoot, said he'd add another five hundred apiece if we'd let him shoot me spunking her pussy lips.

    Were you aware that they have cameras now that will take eight still photographs a second? When the flashes go off, it looks like a strobe light.



    Know what I learned that night? I learned that when you have sex for the purposes of creating porn photos, it isn't all that sexy. Before this, he had put us in position, and then just photographed what happened. But the sucking of nipples, the licking of pussy lips, and the oral lovemaking a woman does to a penis call for relatively languid activity. When you move on to intercourse, slow isn't what the body wants to do.

    But slow is what the camera (pornographer) requires, at least in terms of still photographs. And what that meant was that I got to stick it in Addie a lot ... but then I had to stop and hold the pose, while he framed things the way he wanted them.

    Which meant that while I "fucked" her in seven or eight poses ... we didn't actually get to fuck. When we got to what he called the money shot, in fact, I had to jack off to be able to spurt into the pussy lips she was holding open with her fingers.

    And that is probably why she came to my room that night, to replay some of those poses without Vlad being there to say, "Hold it there! Don't move!"

    I know I'm making this sound like it was seamless, with no difficulties, or emotional upheaval or any of that stuff. And all that was there. But for every thought that we were doing something foolish, there came with it the rock solid feeling that what was done was done, and that what we felt for each other during all this was as real as the air we breathed.

    We simply loved each other, which was a good thing. And we fell in love with each other, which was just a fact we couldn't change.

    So, all in all, we didn't worry too much about it. Like teenagers do all over the world, we just did what we wanted to do, and tried like crazy not to get caught doing it.

    That Thursday night really sealed the deal. We started with her on top. Vlad had had us do that, of course, but he hadn't let her move unless he told her to. Still, in the process of getting on and off me, and rising up and down slowly, intuition told her how much fun this position might be. So she tried that first. And her intuition was right. It took almost no time for her to learn to lean forward, supporting her upper body with her hands on my chest, and wiggle her way to an orgasm.

    I have to say that she managed quieter orgasms now. She didn't just gush loudly like she used to. I never asked her about it, but I suspect that was intentional, because later in our lives she was loud plenty of times.

    She also liked the position where her ankles were on top of my shoulders, and she was bent in half. She was very flexible, something cheerleading demanded of her. She liked that position because it made me go deeper in her than any other way.

    But the one we both liked the best was one we found accidentally. She was on her back, with her legs spread wide, and I was lying on top of her humping her happily, when she got a cramp in her left hip. It was one of those really painful ones that come on really fast, and she whispered that she needed to move her leg. So she swept that leg inward while I lifted my knee, letting her put her legs closer. She wiggled, moaning about the pain, which I sympathized with, but I didn't want to take my penis out of her, so I rocked the other way and lifted my other knee, letting her put her legs completely together.

    "That's better," she sighed, as I settled my weight on her hips.

    I humped her a couple of times, because it felt good, and she said, "That is better!"

    And I agreed, because suddenly she was really tight. She'd always been tight, but this was incredible.

    She was so tight, in fact, that within half a minute I groaned, drove in hard, and spewed.



    I will not say we were like newlyweds. We would have been, but it was impossible to just hop in bed and make love any time we felt like it.

    But we did get together each night and make love. Well ... for another three nights, anyway. Then she got her period, and things came to a screeching halt.

    They also came to a screeching halt with Vlad who, when he found out there was a string hanging from Addison's pussy, told us to go on home.

    "Can't we model some clothing?" asked Addison.

    "I can put you in some more bikinis," he said. "Or winter coats and jackets, if you like, though it is late in the season for that."

    "Well, if we just go home Dad will wonder what's up," she said, proving that she was thinking about things.

    So we stayed and got twenty dollars an hour instead of hundreds of dollars an hour.



    Speaking of her period, this is probably as good a place as any to supply some information you may have noticed was missing. That is, information about our lives other than when we were involved with each other sexually. We did have lives apart from each other. I know it doesn't sound like it, based on what you've read so far, but that's because what we did together was so intense that other things paled by comparison. What I mean is that when something that passionate is going on in your life, you tend not to think about other, more mundane parts of existence. Even just thinking back on it has caused me to leave out many aspects of our lives.

    Like dating. We both went on dates. We had to, because people expected us to. I never asked Addison what happened on her dates. I didn't want to know. And she never told me. Even to this day I don't know if she let any of the guys she went out with cop a feel, so that her reputation might seem as normal as other girls. I do know that I pushed the envelope with the girls I went out with. But it wasn't because I was trying to get lucky. I was already lucky. I was only curious about how differently those girls might react to things than Addie did.

    And we had extracurricular activities too. She still had cheer practice, and there were games and dances and all the things that are normal for kids in high school. So while what I have described is anything but normal, that wasn't all that defined our lives. There was plenty of normality in our lives, including my sister having PMS and periods.

    Addie's periods were regular, in terms of when they came around. I had never thought about that before, because I never knew when they happened before all this happened. And I'm only mentioning it now because it had an effect on how things happened. Besides being regular, they also lasted four or five days, which meant we had two working sessions with Vlad during which we couldn't do the big money shots.

    That meant it was Monday again before Addison was prepared to get naked and display her pussy to the world. That was indelicate of me. She only displayed it to me and, once in a while to Vlad.

    But after making the kind of money we'd made, and entering into the kind of relationship we now enjoyed, a week was a long time, and that may be why, when we showed up the following Monday ready to get naked, Vlad finally got to where I now suspect he was headed all along. Waiting must have been hard on him too.

    When we walked into his studio, I noticed there was a backdrop down which displayed what could only be a house made of candy, like those gingerbread houses you see sometimes around Christmas time. The fake grass was spread out in front of it, along with some farm looking equipment, like a stump with an axe stuck in it, and an old wooden wheelbarrow.

    "Kids," he said, "I think you are ready to make some real money ... if you're interested."

    Understand, here, that the last time we'd gotten more than twenty bucks an hour, we'd walked away with fifteen hundred bucks in our pockets. Each. And to us, that already was ... real money.

    "I thought you were already paying us the most you could," said Addison.

    "For still photos, yes," he said.

    "What else is there?" she asked.

    "Movies," he said, simply. "You do a movie for me, and you earn ten thousand."

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