Cheryl and her Brother

Everyone in my stories are 18+ and tale of brotherly love that went to far. Just an incest tale.

Cheryl and her Brother.

Well, my Sister caught me in her dress trying to sneak into the house by way of the upstairs window, maybe too drunk for my own good, a first for me. My Little Sister is in her baby doll nightie, one that Dad or Mom would send you to the farm for your sinful ways just for wearing them. You had one hand in your panties and one hand grabbing your mouth, trying not to scream in shock. I was still too drunk to think clearly, but what caused my Sister Cheryl to almost call out?

Was it my wearing my Sister’s sundress? I’m not a cross-dresser that I know of with no underwear on, or is it the dress still caught on the window where you tie the blinds up. My dick is getting hard being on full display, or was it seeing my angel sister getting caught with her hands down her sexy panties? Did our folks not tell us what the hell this was to even touch it? Can’t stop looking. My mind is too fuzzy to stop.

My Sister is more intelligent than me by a significant amount. She was up out of bed; she put her hand on my mouth that was rubbing her pussy, giving me a treat beyond words and softly says. “Be still, be quiet. You’ll wake the house, Tommy. Damn, your cock looks wow, but I got to know why you are in my sundress, and what’s this black thing on your cock?”

I can’t stand the smell of your pussy on your hand. It drives me wild as my tongue slips out, licking your juices to your knuckles. Your hand is over your mouth to muffle your moan. I’m sucking your fingers as my hard cock slips out from under your dress. You touch me. We had never felt this before. This touching is new. But then, we were just brother and Sister, not lovers. My hand slips into your panties, sliding under the elastic opening for your leg. You are wet beyond belief.

I say in a whisper. “Football team caught me late at the gym; the pricks were ready. My ex shaved my dick and balls and put me in a dress and high heels, putting this remote toy on me. They fed me booze till I puked, then dropped me off at the college on the biggest frat night of the year. I kept sticking my hand down my mouth to throw up until nothing was left.”

Cheryl says. “I’m close, Tommy, please, more to the center that hard nub softer but slower there, that’s it.”

I feel your hands feeling for hair down there; none is on me. Something if Mom and Dad knew they ground me for life just like they kill me if they knew we were touching. You stroked my hot cock. You come hard, grabbing my shoulder and holding on for dear life. Leaning in your cold mouth hits my hot cock, and a few sucks, just a few strokes, made me come. The four hours of being vibrated on with one of those wireless toys clamped on, I get close. It would turn off and back on until its charge ran down long before it let me come, and Cheryl untied the twist ties, taking it off of me.

It gave you more dick to suck. You had me at my whole seven inches, filled your mouth with my girth the size of a red bull energy drink, 8.4 once can at that. You took your time as the world’s sounds stopped, and all I heard were our heartbeats and the low mutters of our soft moans.

Cheryl says. “Damn, who knew what a great cock, my brother has, as we could have been doing this all year. You prick, now give it to me.”

It did not take too long for my slut of a sister to suck my toenails out of me. Finally, we caught our breath, and my Sister took my dress off and gave me a dirty tee shirt and gym shorts. We sort of wore the same size clothes, both being what’s called big-boned. We are both six foot plus, and I hit the scales at one hundred and ninety pounds to your one hundred and fifty. We both had sky blue eyes with blond hair; unlike our folks, they had black eyes and blacker hair, which matched their mood. Most days, dark was their life for their god.

My Sister went first barefoot, another rule or sin in this house; the house was full of rules. So I grabbed her flip-flops, slipping them on to keep my dirty feet from leaving footprints on the scrubbed, clean floors. If we left tracks, we would be down on our knees scrubbing the floor with sponges and brushes.

Seeing into the master bedroom, whose door was always open, you waved me by, watching for any movement of our folks. You kissed me as I passed and showed me your breast, sin in this house to even have them. I slipped into my room, safe and satisfied. I pulled the covers off my bed, made it messy, went to my bathroom, used water to clean my feet, and cleaned the tub afterward.

I laid down thinking about what we did and how it felt right nothing in this house has felt right since we turned thirteen, and our sex became clear who or what we were. Mom and my Sister wear wraps to make their breast smaller. My Sister has 38C’s that melted my heart tonight; with that, I dozed off. I was asleep in seconds and woke to the smell of hot coffee and breakfast cooking downstairs. My Sister is jumping on my bed like she did for years, trying to wake the dead. I look into your eyes; you have not yet wrapped your breast. Your tee shirt was cut short, and you were giving me a show of bouncing beauties.

Then we heard shouting from downstairs. “That bed is made for sleeping, not a bouncy tent.”

Damn, that was seven years ago when we had a bouncy tent for our birthday.

That day as kids alone in the bouncy house, My shorts got caught, and you saw my underwear, and you had such a smile as you pulled your shorts down, so we were even. We were being bad; if our folks knew we were, they would be sent to one of two families. You should meet our two sets of grand nutcases if you think our folks are tough. One summer, we went to one farm, then the next, we worked on our grandparent’s farms from four am till sunset, then dinner and Bible studies till ten pm and bed. The three weeks at one farm and three more at another put a ton of muscles on our bodies. We stayed fit and healthy after that.

Our Dad asked us. “Do you two want a birthday party on your Grand Daddy’s farm or later when you return home?”

We do not share the same birthday. I’m a year older, and we are six weeks apart on our birth certificates. Still, as long as we can remember, we had one birthday party and one gift, mostly socks for me and clothes for my Sister.

It took our smiles away inside, but we kept them outside for Mom and Dad to see. We say. “When we get back, Please.”

We answered quietly and humbly; we learned this when we were five. It was not a lovely time in our life. I got tapped on the foot, indicating that we needed to talk alone. It’s Saturday, the few weeks left from the end of the school year. We are to walk for our diploma, make sure not to score too high, or spend the week in the root cellar at one of the farms. Trust me, forty-eight hours of bible verses getting whipped and preachers on TV were not like any normal folks. There were family preachers. I knew them as family, but they seemed less sane than our grand folks were.

Our folks have made sure we not going to college with our grades. We learned early not to write our folk’s answers on tests at school because CPS got their panties in a bunch over that test.

You asked nicely. “If we could get a ride to the library as we had finals.”

We rode silently, not even the radio playing on the church station. The reception was too pour during the day.

We were dropped off and told to walk home before ten pm and bedtime; we were given five dollars for dinner. You punched my arm as we went in and checked out the stacks over by the computers as we had finals. Rather than get started, you checked bus schedules and told me four times over three days that you remembered the times you started with. I notice a young couple not using anything; both read their tan-colored bibles they pulled out of their bags. I noticed and made Cheryl change her seat with me. It lets her see and work the screen.

I say. “Clear the search history; don’t get caught looking, seeing the young couple over at the end table. The two look like the kids of the family that let us sleep at their house during that church week four years ago. Are they here for us? Talk with your hand over your mouth; they might read lips.”

Something our Mom was capable of doing; don’t ask how we know, please.

Cheryl says. “I overheard Dad on the phone talking to his Dad; it scared me something about maybe the next siblings are a better match. We have to be virgins. I overheard Mom talking to her Mom, or the marriage won’t work. It had happened before, and we would have to be removed, and the other side of the family could try again in four more years when they turned eighteen. What the hell does that mean? We got three weeks to get over five hundred bucks, and we need to be on a bus before we get sent to the farm again, for I fear for the last time. Do you think your Sister is paranoid?”

I did not speak another word but was looking up a phrase I heard at the farm from a hired hand; my face went white as I read. I googgel Blood Magick, which showed me Countess Elizabeth Báthory; we read, and fear gripped us. Elizabeth Báthory was a Hungarian countess who purportedly tortured and murdered more than 600 women in the 16^th century to stay young. There was a painting of her; we both tried not to freak out that it looked a good deal like our Mother.

I say. “We need to get away, and we need to not be virgins.”

We talked for the few hours about how to make money.

I say. “If I sold my medical collection of animal skulls and complete skeletons, medical tools from the civil war, a gift of an uncle, stamps also a gift two are worth maybe four hundred, rare coins a gift none are in good shape but still worth something, and a tin of baseball cards a gift from a friend of the family whose son died in Desert Storm whatever that was.

I looked online for what they could bring; it all came to a few thousand if we were lucky. I made a mental plan to get things out of the house. I will change the things worth nothing on display in my room and remove the items worth cash. We went home by bus, getting off a few stops early to get a happy meal between the two of us. We notice the two from the library. As we walked home with plenty of time. The next day at school, we see them again at the office. We chatted about it waiting on the bus to go home.