Valentine’s Candy: Open Wide – Part 3

Val shook his head with a grin, his amazement growing.

She had wormed a hand between them far enough to stroke his cock. She could feel it give under her fingers. Shocking herself, unbidden, she whispered. “I want you to fuck me, Valentine. Dislocate my jaw you shove that thing so far up inside.”

He gasped.

Aunt Mar had told Candy to get him off when the time was right, that he’d be softer then, easier to get inside, but he was already softer now. The eighteen year old girl was ready and impatient and saw an opportunity to skip a step, to get to her goal sooner rather than later.

She felt his cock move under her fingers, stiffen. It was beginning to awake.

“What do you call it?” Her touch became more focused, tugging at his length.

“Huh?”

“This big fella. What do you call it? John Thomas? Mr. Willie Johnson?”

“You mean my dick? My very long shlong?”

“That’s an accurate description, but not a name. What do you call it when you talk to him?”

“Actually he does have a name. No one know this. Okay? It’s George.” He sounded so unsure.

“George?”

“George.”

Candy felt a lurch as his slow inflation continued under her encouraging touch.

“Nice to meet you, George.” Her grip wrapped more firmly around him in a mock handshake. He was thicker than he had been a moment ago. She knew this was her best opportunity, before her body fully realized what she had done to it tonight.

“George, I want you inside me, right now. Please, Valentine, do it now.”

Her fingers sank into his spongy flesh as she lined the fat head against her tender opening. “Before you get bigger, push it in.”

He raised himself on strong arms braced to either side of her and pushed.

She felt the immediate sympathetic pressure by her temples, above her ears, as she was opened once more. His first small push into her had wedged the slightly giving surface of the tip inside. Candy strained to remain silent out if fear he might take it as pain. Pain was fine with her now, if it got her what she had to have, what she could not live without.

The thought brought clarity. She saw her Valentine looming above her, so much larger then Aunt Mar. Pinkish red light lit half his face, scrolling down the muscular curves of his body. The first glow of the sunrise. Later, she remembered looking up at him in that light and thinking the Poet was right: they are the rosy fingers of the dawn.

He pushed again. This time she did cry out and he hesitated, exactly as she feared.

“Valentine, do it. Now. Don’t try to be gentle. I know it’s going to hurt. I’m going to hurt for days after what I did getting ready for this. Now make sure I hurt because of you fucking me, not some lifeless rubber dildo. Make me ache for days, Valentine. Shove that monster inside, big brother. Open me up; ruin me.”

She pulled her slim young legs wide, bending her knees with her hands, opening herself to him every way she could.

Valentine’s fingers guided his cock now. He could feel it’s give, it’s flexibility even as Candy’s words seem to send a signal directly to his body: the blood was starting to flow back into him, swelling and hardening his cock. It didn’t happen instantly, but he didn’t have long or his stepsister’s plan was ruined.

He pushed in with his hips and down with his fingers, using both hands to keep the flexing shaft straight. Her body resisted the invasion before the immense head forced its way in.

The look on Candy’s sweet face was a mixture of pain, determination, and amazement. Between panting breaths she smiled up at him. Smiled with the lips that had had their first kiss less than a day ago. Lips her couldn’t see minutes ago.

“You’re inside me, Valentine. Don’t stop now. Please.”

He didn’t. As amazed as Candy, he was determined to not stop what he had come to believe – what he had been taught – to be impossible. He wasn’t going to kill her, he wasn’t going to maim her. The intimidatingly fat head was already inside her virgin pussy, still going deeper, and she wanted more of him.

This brilliant innocent had figured out how to bring the two of them together and he was not going to fail her. He pulled back the short distance until the head was threatening to pop outside her overstretched lips. The stiffening shaft took less support when he eased back against her resistance, feeling walls reluctantly giving in to the incessant pressure.

Candy’s look was crazed. A determined grin through gritted teeth, eyes appearing ready to exit their sockets, tension everywhere. Wet rapid breaths struggled through her nostrils. He pulled back, pushed deeper again.

The next invading thrust he could only keep one hand on the shaft which had regained enough stiffness that the guidance wasn’t needed. He was well over half way inside her. Candy was panting through her open mouth now, eyes crinkled in stress and concentration.

Valentine took her bent knees in his large hands, allowing her small ones to fall to her sides. He pulled back with hips alone, teasing her with small motions of the huge knob just inside of her. He reared back, and twitched as though about to thrust deep, only to stop.

Candy cringed, then looked up at him in surprise when the shock of his entry didn’t materialize.

“Last chance, beautiful. You are definitely not a virgin any more, even if we stop. Do you want to…go on?”

“Make love to me, Valentine. Fuck me. Whatever you want to do with me. Just don’t stop.”

He fake-thrust again. The third time, the twitch was the harbinger of a real thrust, still slow, but forcefully opening her wet but reluctant walls.

Her sharp cry trailed off into a groan as her eyes left his, rolling upward as her back arched involuntarily, part attempt to escape from the painful intrusion, part spasming response to overwhelming sensation.

Holding her knees bent wide, Valentine continued to move in and out of her. He was not close to all the way in, but her young body was absorbing a massive, unfamiliar invasion with every stroke. His shaft and head were rigid with blood and lust now.

Candy had been exaggerating poetically when she’d told him to dislocate her jaw. Hyperbole. Now she wasn’t sure. The way each thrust into her suddenly snapped her tender flesh open wide, stuffed her too full, only to leave her too empty before before his next return, this was nothing like what rubber Jumbo had done. He felt bigger than Jumbo already, and he was inside her, her beautiful brother’s living pulsing flesh, not a molded imitation.

She flashed to a birthday party years ago. A clown made balloon animals, stretching each pencil-thin balloon with a couple of quick tugs before compressed gas instantly inflated them into long, sausage-thick toy legs and torsos.

While the two tugs seemed enough to prevent the thin rubber from rupturing under the force of sudden expansion, she sympathized with the balloon. The pressure and tension she felt each time Valentine reentered her made everything Marguerite and Jumbo had done to her, all the lubrication and preparation, seem as adequate as two quick tugs on a tiny limp balloon.

“Candy.” Valentine’s voice was tight. “You’re so…beautiful. You turn me on so much. I can’t help it. I’m going to cum soon.”

“Are you hard, Val? Are you…big inside me?” The realization that he was already completely erect in her made her question come out as nearly as squeal. She had been dreading his continued expansion, growing more inside of her.

“Oh, sweet sister, I am so fucking hard right now. I have never been bigger.”

The smile of relief almost split her face. Valentine felt his balls contract. His next thrust in would be his last before he had to pull out.

Doubt and fear vanished from Candy, replaced by unadulterated joy. Valentine was inside of her, Valentine was making love to her, Valentine was hers. She began to cry, for this moment complete.

Familiar tingling was traveling down Val’s spine from his skull. He felt muscles in his lowest belly clench while his feet flexed against the bed. After his dream explosion on his stomach not an hour ago, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to cum again any time soon. Instead, his amazing stepsister had surprised him, in more ways than one.

He pulled his hips back the extra distance needed to withdraw from her tight wet squeeze, scooping his stiff slippery shaft up in his already pumping hand.

Looking up, Candy saw his chest heaving. She sucked in air in surprise when he pulled out of her, leaving her body confusingly void. The relief she had felt on a feral, animal level when she knew he was not going to suddenly balloon inside her had allowed other signals her body was sending to be heard clearly.

There was a deep, torturous tension lurking behind the worry. She was being opened and touched as never before. Now that the threat of being torn open was gone, that familiar torment cried out for attention. Her submission to joy and tears opened the door for it to be heard. Then his cock, her enormous invader, was gone. Only an aching absence, a void, remained.

Valentine stroked himself, his hand slick, close against her mound. Her sudden happy tears stirred something in him and the electric tension behind his neck and skull skyrocketed. He cried out through a suddenly strangled throat as the first long stream shot in a ragged rope up her smooth belly and between her breasts.

Her shocked gasp at his withdrawal signaled the tension in her core to demand full and immediate attention. It came from an unlikely and unknowing source. While Valentine gazed in wonder, lust, and love at his teary stepsister below him, stroking the length of his thick shaft to release his own orgasm, the knuckles of his pumping fist massaged directly above her newly vacated slit.

Just as her taut spring demanded attention, his unknowing hand provided it directly over her sensitive but recently neglected clit. As the first long stream left his balls, his hand pumped hard down to the root of his shaft. That last, prolonged drag of his knuckles over her tender flesh, four large rounded knuckles each massaging over her swollen nub in a row, triggered her own release.