“Stop. You can’t.” More whimpering from the floor, and still, Mom stares at the raw fucking of her children.
Brooke’s fist clenches around the base of my cock, her de-facto cock stopper. Even as lust fueled as I am right now, I still don’t want to hurt her. Nah, the only person I want to hurt is the one whimpering on the floor. I just…I really want to return the favor for my raising, and now I have the power to do so.
My thrusts are slow and strong. They slide her body up the bed until the top of her noggin bangs into the wall. I draw back. Her vagina pooches out of her pussy. I slam forward. Her head slams against the house. Out, in. Out, in. My rhythm picks up.
Quickening wet splooshes, a nasty queef, pungent cunt musk. She punishes her clitoris, her mind certainly lost to some alternate dimension of pain and pleasure. I smash into her pussy. Faster, faster. Soon, my hips are a spasming jackhammer once again.
Brooke cries out into the air, screaming so loud that the neighbor’s probably hear.
Her hips buck, her pussy clenches. This is a sensation I’ve come to know is her orgasm, but unlike her other orgasms, this one is fierce! Her stomach heaves in and out. Her thighs begin to quake. She screams at God, and it’s like she’s completely unshackled from everything in that moment, too.
A stream of piss and cum spray out of her urethra. It splashes into my stomach, drips down my balls, soaks the bed, and my knees slop through that burgeoning swamp, that pouring waterfall as I pound her pussy as hard and fast as my hips will shake.
The heavens open to me right after. I throw my head back and scream, “Fuck yeah!” I slam the head of my cock clear up against her cervix, pushing into it, almost trying to break through. My legs quake, balls swell, and an utterly transcendent orgasm rocks my world. Rope after rope of cum shoots straight into my sister’s womb.
It bleeds out of her hole, creams around my cock. I work that slime in and out. Rotten wet slurpings.
Brooke is drenched in sweat, flushed, chest heaving, and I suppose I’m not better, with the exception that, I’m pretty sure she’d just peed on me.
Jesus Christ.
Our worlds just ended, and it was incredible.
Once I catch my breath, I ask her, “What happens now?”
She wrinkles her nose, so cute. “Got any tissues? I need to plug my pussy.”
We both ignore Mom. That tired old lady drags herself out of the room, pretty much crawling and utterly defeated.
A twinge of post-nut guilt pangs my heart. I should feel awful for what we’d just done to our mother, but then again, Mother should feel worse for what she did to us–and I know she doesn’t. Her only fear is the illusion of family lost.
Besides, me and Brooke, we’re just the little monsters that her and Dad made. I’ve tried to be good, but for them, I was never good enough. They always wanted more, more, more.
I flop over beside Brooke, and curl into her as she holds me. I’m the little spoon, and right here, I’m completely safe. I might even be able to get a hard-on naturally if my dick wasn’t spent, but that’s probably just wishful thinking.
In a bit, we do need to take a shower and do some serious laundry, but for now, this is fine. Besides, Brooke laughs about how she can’t walk right now.
I suckle on her breast. She rubs the back of my head, basking against me.
The pair of us are lost to our own little world–at least until Dad and Brain come home.
*******************************************
I try not to think about the future. But I do know that mine has changed. It’s an unknown.
The washer beeps, and I fish out the entire comforter that was on Brooke’s bed. It’s wrapped around the actuator, so it takes some doing, then I stuff it into the dryer with a handful of fabric softener sheets.
It’s noon, and I wander out to the kitchen.
Brooke’s seated at the table, and I swear, since this morning, she’s had a permanent grin plastered across her face, but it isn’t her twisted one. It’s just happy and innocent. Like the kind of smile you can’t control when you’re feeling good. I don’t understand how she can appear so innocent considering the things that I did to her a few hours ago.
She’s leaning back in her chair, feet kicking idly up in the air. Why, she might even be humming a tune.
As I walk by, I lean down. She leans up and puckers her lips. We linger against each other, but just as she opens her mouth for more, a sharp clank, clank, clank interrupts us.
Mom’s standing by the stove heating up some turkey and gravy. She really made it a point to clank the spatula against the side of the pan. She hasn’t said a word to us since this morning. Though, I really doubt my sister is helping with that. She’s been following Mom around like a unwelcome shadow all morning, Brooke just so happening to need to be in the same room as Mom constantly. Huh. Go figure.
I can see that what happened is weighing heavily on Mom. Seemingly just over the course of a couple of hours, I swear she already has bags forming under her eyes.
Funny.
Mom never seemed to mind the bags under Brooke’s eyes, but now the same thing has happened to her. It only seems right that me and Brooke pretend not to notice and just go about our lives without pause nor empathy.
Brooke gets an impish glean about her. “What’s for lunch, Mom?”
Mom doesn’t answer.
“Are you making turkey sandwiches?” Brooke keeps poking.
Mom scrapes the bottom of the pan and flicks an oven knob.
“Are you using that heavy wheat bread? ‘Cause if you do, I don’t really like the crust. Could you cut the crust off for me, Mommy?” Sis is just swinging her legs without a care in the world.
No reaction.
Brooke pokes me and nods over toward Mom. “You ask her,” she whispers.
I…don’t know. This seems to be taking it a little far. Brooke pokes me again. Fine, fine.
“I–I think I’d like some mashed potatoes on mine,” I say. “A good open faced sandwich.”
Mom doesn’t reply.
I shug back to sis. Earlier, Brooke had reassured me a thousand times over that Mom would never say anything to Dad or Brian about what happened. And, oddly, I believe that. Mom’s is a passive strength, to put it in the kindest terms. She’ll carry burdens quietly as long as the appearance of normalcy is maintained.
Perhaps even more oddly, I’m kind of hoping that Mom does tell everyone. That would force me and Brooke’s futures together, I think. That would be the easy path forward, close off all our other options like welp, nothing else we can do now, Brooke, guess we got to spend the rest of our lives together.
God, it feels good to be evil.
That naive thought lingers right up until I hear gravel crunching up the driveway. The Silverado is pulling in, Dad and Brian are here.
Oh fuck.
My breath hitches.
All that false bravado melts away. All of it gone, that quickly, that easily. Ha, how fragile of a resolve. What a useless partner am I.
Sis turns around in her chair and hugs my waist, just like she did back in her room when she was applying her make-up. “Hey, don’t worry about it. There’s nothing anyone can do that I can’t undo.”
I appreciate the sentiment, but the statement is stupid. What–is she a genie? “Alright,” I mumble and kiss the top of her head. Vanilla and lavender scented now. She dwells on me.
Mom’s clutching a dish rag, again just watching us. This time with a truly indecipherable expression on her face.
The truck door slams. Brian exists first. I don’t care about him, but when Dad’s bald head and stocky shoulders appear just over his open door, I just–I can’t–
Brooke yelps.
Oh fuck. I’d been clenching her shoulder in a death grip. I clutch the back of her chair instead. I think she pats my hand, but it’s a faint register.
Mom still pretends to wipe off her spatula, the same one she wore in her apron when she caught me and my sister having sex.
The weight of that last part really settles in. I understand what me and Brooke did now, how wrong it was. But it’s beyond apology.
Clank, clank, clank. Mom turns her back and returns to her stovetop fixings.
We’re on our own.
Happy voices outside. “Yeah, thirteen’s an awkward one. Just a shade too far for a nine iron and then that deceptive slope back into the drink.” “Well, hell, you were right to play it long, Dad. I should have listened.” “Ah, no worries–” I can hear the back slap from in here. “–all in good fun, Son.”
When had Dad ever told me that a sport was all in good fun?
Pretty sure the wooden chair back is cracking under my grip.
The doorknob turns. The pair enter, clubs rattling. Dad glances to the stove, sees the turkey, and nods approvingly.
Brian notices Brooke, takes off his hat, and uses it to dab some sweat off his neck. “Hey, babe. We all packed?”
My sister, ever so sweet, replies, “Yup, your suitcase is in the car. Mason loaded it up.”
Brain tips his head to me. “Thanks, man.”
And just that easily, Dad and Brain leave for the den. All that buildup in my mind for nothing.
Twenty minutes later, we’re all gathered around the table, and Mom’s serving us leftovers. Dad does have something to say about that. He notices the knife and fork set out before me and declares, “Holidays are over. About time to be getting back to your normal diet. Don’t you think, Mason?”
He thinks I should be having a smoothie.
I can’t think of anything to say back, but honest to goodness, Mom does it for me. She picks that moment to set down a plate of turkey in front of me. It’s laid up on a bed of mashed potatoes, a slice of toast underneath, and absolutely smothered in gravy.
She really did make me an open face sandwich.
Brooke’s got a sandwich, too. Mom cut the heavy wheat crust off. I think I want to cry. Even my devilish sister has a troubled expression.
Brooke reaches down to pick up a wedge, but her fiance is staring at her hand funny. She nibbles away, all the while he just stares at her. Something must’ve dawned on him. He cocks his head and asks, “Where’s your ring?”
“Hmm?” Brooke’s chewing down a mouthful.
“Your ring, dear.” He holds up his own. “Where is it?”
She holds up her hand–just a minute–, chews some more, and swallows. “My ring? It was in the way, so I took it off.”
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