Big Tits and Correct Opinions

Note

: Tireless on your behalf, I watched a whole season of

2 Broke Girls

as research. Note that Kat's family name is actually "Litwack"--to reduce reader confusion I refer to her parents by her stage name of "Dennings"

Content warning

: don't read if you have a sensitive stomach: it contains VERY big tits and EXTREMELY correct opinions.

* * *

My kid sister Kat Dennings ALWAYS HAS TO BE RIGHT. It sucks.

Eighteen years: that's how long we've lived together. Zero: that's how many times I've heard her admit to being wrong. She provokes pointless arguments about stupid topics (usually taking the most enragingly bad stance about said stupid topic) and then argues until you give up.

Cats were invented in the year 1644.

Die Hard

is a Hanukkah Movie.

Killing someone in a dream means you murdered them in another timeline and owe their real-world twin an apology (and also money).

Being blatantly wrong doesn't stop her. A shovel to the face doesn't stop her. She is a machine. Trying to out-argue my sister is like trying to out-bark a dog or out-piss the Niagara Falls. A futile endeavor.

That said, there are certain compensations to having Kat Dennings as a sister...

* * *

"Women have a higher tolerance for pain than men," Kat randomly said around the breakfast table one morning.

Mom and dad ignored her. I was half-asleep, and like an idiot, I dived on the bait.

"That makes no sense," I said. "Men had to fight mammoths and stuff..."

"And women have to give birth and stuff," Kat retorted. "Babies are more painful than mammoths."

"No, they're not."

"Are too!" Kat's eyes flashed in delight.

Yay! A victim!

"Have you seen how big a newborn baby is? Imagine

that

coming out of your butt. You'd demand a Purple Heart. And that's Tuesday morning for us women. Face it, Zack. We're the stronger sex!"

"You're wrong."

"No, I'm right!" Kat was just smug as a peach that morning. I wanted to slap that arrogant grin right off her dial.

Her pretty smirk was framed by obsidian-black hair, braided into thick glossy pigtails. They twisted like pythons down the shoulders of a Gudrun & Gudrun cashmere sweater, where the tips rested on the upper slopes of her huge breasts.

If being stacked was a crime, my sister would currently be eating her last meal on death row. She wears a 30JJ. (Yeah, like

you

wouldn't check the tags on a big-titted sister's bra, you goodie two-shoes.) I couldn't even think of a comeback, I was too distracted by the sheer wobbling enormity of the monster jugs stretching the Gudrun & Gudrun to bursting.

"Got anything to say, big bro?" Kat smirked again, leaning forward. Her vast tits ballooned obscenely against the table, and I got an erection.

How are they so fucking big?

I thought, my palms itching with sweat.

It's like she's got a pair of motorcycle helmets under that sweater.

"Your argument makes no sense." My boner was chokeslamming out my brain for monopoly over my blood supply. "How does women giving birth prove they have a higher pain tolerance?"

"According to you, men fighting mammoths proves something, so I was pointing out that women experience

worse

pain."

"The mammoths were just an example."

Her smile became smugger. "The babies were just an example."

Hit the eject lever, or you'll be here for ten hours.

"Let's agree to disagree," I said, vengefully stabbing a streak of bacon with my fork.

"Ha!" Kat clapped her hands, her tits leaping hugely inside her sweater. "That means you lose!"

I flung the fork down. "NO, IT MEANS I THINK THE ARGUMENT IS DUMB!"

"You didn't think it was dumb before!" Kat said. "People only 'agree to disagree' when they've lost."

"It's a stupid argument about nothing," I snarled. "Grow up. There's nothing to lose. Except your two remaining brain cells by thinking about it."

"Let's hear you debunk it, if it's so stupid."

Like Michael Corleone, you think you're out...and then she pulls you back in.

"I can't, Kat, because

there's nothing to disprove.

It's random nonsense you made up. Like if I said 'hey, men have more self control than women!' at the breakfast table and then challenged you to debunk it. See? I can play that game too!"

Kat scoffed, and tried to cross her arms over her chest. This didn't work, due to insurmountable physical problems, and she awkwardly let them fall to her sides.

"I wouldn't find that very hard to debunk," she sniffed. "Everyone knows women have more self control than men."

"No they don't."

"Yes they do."

"They don't!"

"They do!"

The sniping became an all-out shooting war. Mom and dad stood up from the table, said "goodbyes" that went completely ignored under the yelling, and left for work.

"THEY DON'T!"

"THEY DO!"

* * *

"Those damn kids fight all the time," Mr Dennings grumbles, adjusting his yarmulke on the way to his car. The sounds of teenage bickering follows him to the car.

--They don't!--

--They do!--

"Kat has certainly inherited her

Bubbe's

stubborn streak," Mrs Dennings says.

"Zack's holding his own, from what I can hear."

They're at the end of the driveway, and can still hear the yells from the house.

--They don't!--

--They do!--

"They're good kids," Mrs Dennings says. "Even if they do argue like a married couple sometimes. They have bright futures ahead of them. Kat's doing so well with her acting. And Zack's got his...what does he have, honey?"

Mr Dennings sighs heavily. "...His esports career. Aspiring esports career, I should say."

*"Well, one of them has a bright future," Mrs Dennings says, rooting around in her purse for car keys. "At least they're not fooling around with drugs and pre-marital sex and all that other* mishegas.

Remember the Finkelsteins?

"

He shudders. The Finkelsteins' daughter was caught kissing a boy at shul. Had his hand beneath her sweater, according to scuttlebutt. They weren't even engaged!

"That's true," he says. "At least our kids are well-behaved. We can trust what goes on in our home.

"

* * *

The stereo was on--"The Black Parade", storming forward at 194bpm.

I gasped on the couch. Jerked. My spine whiplashed against concussive bursts of pleasure.

My bratty kid sister's tongue drooled across the head of my prick, fat and heavy. She dragged it wetly over my glans, provoking another toe-curling cascade of sensation. Agony, braided into ecstasy. Agonecstasy.

My piss slit yawned, drooling a glistening river of pre-cum down my shaft. Her clever blade-sharp tongue flashed and curved, slurping it up.

"Are you sure mom and dad are gone?" she said, tonguing my balls.

"Yeah, I heard their cars leave."

Kneeling between my legs, Kat flipped and tugged my prick back and forth, slapping it around with lashes of a tongue like a fat pink whip. I shuddered, feeling breath wash over my genitals--followed by her whole fucking mouth.

"Your balls feel extra full this morning," she said, pulling her head out of my crotch. "You're not gonna win this one, big bro."

"Try me."

Kat reached behind her back, and undid the final hook on her 30JJ bra. It exploded from her heavy pendulous tits, the cups springing outward. Gripping my knees, she used them like balance beams to swing her huge-jugged torso forward onto my lower body.

Plop!

She swung herself down into my lap, gallons of white tit meat piling obscenely on both thighs. Using her boobs like pillows to support herself, Kat plunged her head into my crotch and began to feast.

She slurped and sucked on my prick. Her stacked boobs rippled as her head rose and fell; as mouth-noises sprayed out, as red lips pulled and tore and scythed relentlessly at my pulsating shaft.

I locked my jaw. Gritted my teeth. Tried to let the waves of pleasure surge through me and out the other side.

I will not cum. I will not cum. I will not--OOF!

My sister latched on my quivering cock, deep-throating me, grinding sticky lipstick into my itching ballsack. As I twitched at the back of her throat, I felt her hard nipples pebbling against my hairy naked legs. Two rock hard dots.

Fuck Me

in abstract Braille.

"Stop giving yourself a head start," I snorted, my ankles sweating. "Let me eat your pussy."

She backed her head off my saliva-slickened shaft enough to talk. "Can I be on top this time?"

I slid over on the couch, making space for her. "I'll be the six. You be the nine."

A hand flicked past me, reaching for the controls on the side of the couch. She pressed RECLINE. The couch's back plunged back, twisting me horizontal. Eyes to the ceiling. Mind in the clouds. Feeling my sister slink and writhe from the ground up onto the couch, until her body was yin-yang opposed to mine. As her head feasted lewdly on my crotch, her feet playfully kicked me in the face.

"Ow! Stop it, Kat!" A sharp toenail almost tore out my eye.

Still not letting go of my prick with her mouth, Kat swung her body onto mine in graceful stages. Like a mountaineer; like a gymnast. Poetry stanza'd in meters of muscle and gravity. Her thick legs laced around my head, squeezing from the knees. My skull was cradled between them.

Then she rolled her hips back. Her moist cunt's shadow swung over my face, her gash yawning like a chasm. A rope of viscous pussy juice unspooled, going

plap

in my eye.

"Take a deep breath," she said, angling her hips. "Or don't. Like I care."

Then she

pounded

her meaty hips straight down on my face, engulfing me in her chubby pussy and labia.

SMACK!

Apocalypse.

Her cunt and ass and thighs swallowed half my head, burying me in a landslide of my sister's flesh. It was like drowning in melting white chocolate. Her legs gripped my head, and her overlarge buttocks slid down my skull. I could hardly breathe. Her hot pulsing genitals seemed to

flow

around my face. Liquid wept from her Skene and Bartholin glands. Somewhere in that gooey mess, I found Kat's clit, hard and shiny as a pearl, and began tongue-fucking it.

We sixty-nined on the couch, sucking and slurping each others' genitals, each trying to make the other cum. A rude pit orchestra of moist, slapping sounds descanted from our lips.

Kat sucked and titfucked me. At the other end, she smeared her hot wet pussy over my face. Whenever she lifted up her hips, I gazed through the perspiration-slick chasm our bodies formed. Her boobs were piled in heaps of whipped cream against my lean, muscular pelvis. She scooped up her breasts, and clasped them around my cock, titwanking me while teasing the glans with her tongue--the huge jugs squelched wetly and heavily around my plunging prick.

Fuck!

My brat sister's tits had so much flow and mass and volume. They were like balloons of hot dough. I watched beads of sweat rolling slowly down the immense slopes of her udders.

How am I not cumming already?

Then she thrust her cold index finger into my asshole. A shock. A worm of wriggling ice, plunging deeply and ravenously into me.

I...I wasn't

ready

.

A mind-annihilating rush tore across my prostate like a fireball, a white-hot onslaught that obliterated my entire reproductive tract into gelid spasms. Pleasure firestormed through me, wild and hot and unendurable. I would have

screamed

, if my mouth hadn't been full of her fat throbbing cunt. Every muscle I possessed suddenly seemed to shorten by half. I contracted, convulsed, folded inward,

tore myself apart

around the finger inside my ass.

"Guhh!" I bucked my hips against her face.

My surging balls vented forth their pungent load in torrents. Grunting, writhing, squirting, I firehosed disgusting quantities of cum into her mouth.

Kat's eyes widened as a dozen ribbons of cum sprayed into her throat. She choked and gagged on my thick genetic sludge, and yanked her head back. Mouthfuls of thick gooey sperm were HURRKed back into my crotch, followed by my thrashing, ejaculating dick. It jerked around like a fish, flopping back and forth in her hand.

"Ha! You came first!" she sputtered, as white cum sprayed across the couch. "I win the argument! I win the UHHHH-GUHHHHH...AAAAAHHHH!"

My tongue stabbed forward, and punched her twat hard enough to connect the right wires. She squealed, her hips recoiled with the force of a breech-loaded shotgun blasting, and her pussy convulsed against my face.

"CUUUUUHMMMMIIIINNGG!"

Kat orgasmed ferociously, her thighs scissoring around my neck with bone-snapping force.

"OH FUCK! UHH! UHHH! UHHHH!"

Her meaty thighs jerked and jerked, as fierce rhythmic surges twisted her muscles. I was trapped in a pythonlike vortex of thighflesh, strangling me.

"UHHH! UHHH! UHHH!"

Just when I thought I'd pass out, her thighs relaxed, quivered, and unlooped from my neck.

Kat rolled off my body. Fell off the couch. Landed on the floor with a thud. I gasped for air, feeling a star-shaped explosion of her cum cooling on my face.

For a second, there was quiet...which never lasted long in this house.

"I win again!" Kat jeered, leaping back up like a cheerleader. "I WIN AGAIN!"

She fist-pumped over my sweat and cum covered body, bouncing up and down. Her fat fucking tits went

clop-clop

as they clubbed against her sternum. Female ejaculate sluiced down her big jiggly thighs in double-rivers.

"Quod Erat Demonstrandum, bitch!" Kat sneered, her face flushed. "Men

do

have worse self control than women!"

I smiled. "You gave yourself a HUGE head start, and still only outlasted me by eight seconds!"

"I'm eight point zero, you're late point zero!"

"What does that even mean?"

"It means I WON!" Kat giggled, her climax shunting her thoughts down weird tracks. "This calls for celebration. I'm getting drunk on mom's cooking wine."

"Wow, you're such a rebel."

"Want anything from the kitchen?"

"Nah, I'm good." I watched the smokeshow that was my sister's body bounce and jiggle toward our mom's stash of Manischewitz.

We were homeschooled. Our folks would be away all day.

The house was ours. Not legally, but in every way that mattered.

With my soft cock fattening on my thigh, I wondered what other arguments I could "lose" to Kat before the day ended...

* * *

This all started when my sister accused me of jacking off into her bra cups. (Which I

wasn't

, for the record. I did it in her panties, like a gentleman.)

"Stop whacking your dick to me, you perv!" she yelled. "I'm your sister! Ew!"

"I'm not whacking my dick to you!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

Yadda yadda for ten minutes...

Then, without meaning to, I said the most tactically brilliant thing

I have ever said in my life

. Some next-level Sun Tzu shit came out of my mouth.

"Kat, I know you're full of yourself. I know this will be difficult for you to hear.

But I'm not sexually attracted to you.

"

Kat looked like she'd been

slapped.

Her mouth fell open in an O of shock.

"You? Not attracted to me? I'm sorry, but...WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"

"I tried masturbating to you once, sis," I said, palms out guilelessly. "But my dick wouldn't get hard. I couldn't fap to you if I wanted to."

She put her hands on her hips and pouted.

"Oh, that's

so

bullshit, Zack! You have a boner every time I'm in the postal district! Remember that time when--when--"

"Who's this 'When'? A friend of yours?"

"YOU THINK I'M HOT!" My sister fumed and flounced. This statement--that her brother didn't find her attractive--had caused a full-blown blood infarcture in her brain. She was

broken

by it. "YOU WANT TO FUCK ME! DON'T DENY IT!"

"You know," I began pleasantly, "when reality doesn't match what we expect, our brain subtly misperceives events so that--HEY!"

She flung a pillow in my face. Followed by an entire sofa cushion. And then the family cat. Smokey miaowed, tried to claw out my eyes, and then shot down the hall like a fluffy torpedo.

I raked cat hair from my eyes to see Kat do an angry double-stomp on the floor, loose a guttural scream, and rage-walk to her room, fists pumping at her side.

"Fuck you, Zack!"

"Hey, sis!" I laughed. "Chill out. What have I done?"

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH! FUCK YOU!"

"First you're mad that I'm fapping to you, now you're mad that I'm

not

fapping to you? Make up your mind! I can't win, can I?"

She twisted her fists back by her sides, and leaned forward. It looked comically like she was trying to take a shit. Then she spoke softly, with rising force.

"Zachary Dennings, you are a..."

The sentence abruptly became a scream, like Mufasa roaring from Pride Rock.

"...LIIIIAAAAAARRRRRRRR!"

She slammed the door so hard that a sheet of dust puffed from the entire wall. I was impressed. Our house hadn't shaken that bad in Cali's last category 7 earthquake.

I shrugged, picked up the controller, and kept grinding my k/d.

* * *

Minutes later, Kat's bedroom door creaked open.

I heard her feet falling behind me. Felt her breath washing across my neck.

I turned around, and saw her...

...and instantly my 2.3 k/d plunged straight to scrubtown.

Oh.

Look.

At that.

I did not know my sister had bought a black slingkini.

But as she stood between me and the TV--letting the lambent fire of Halo 2 wash across her oil-dark flesh, I knew it then. Knew it deeper than I knew the fact of my own existence.

"Hi, Mr Not Attracted To His Sister!" Kat sneered, her body lashed and laced in black, shocking and black and white and contradictory, twisting like an antimatter tornado in latex. "

How do you like me now?

"

Lust hit me like a hammer; made my eyes water. The Dualshock II slid from my hands.

My perspective twisted inward upon her voluptuous body, as though I was falling into a Kat Dennings-shaped black hole.

Was she wearing a slingkini or was one

painted

onto her body? It gripped her audacious figure like a Chinese finger trap. She posed and pirouetted, putting a hand behind her head. Mountains of flesh heaved and groaned beneath the black lycra piece.

It was

way

too small for her. Her tits looked obscenely enormous in the strappy black monokini. They sloshed heavily from from side to side, like balloons filled with water, tightly pinned to her chest by scandalously tiny ties which formed a V across her thick body, causing vast tidal swells of her flesh to gush out on each side. Her nipples were barely covered. Her areolas were clearly visible.

Beneath her chest, Kat's heavy, massive PAWG ass was escaping all over the place from the tiny brief-bottom. Even from the front, you could see the way her asscheeks were getting forced out past her hips.

My dick swelled in my pants.

This does not strike me as a Shyamalan-esque plot twist, best kept from the reader until the last page.

Saliva dried up in my mouth, and I lusted with the fires of hell for my sister.

I imagined her naked. Stripped and tied up upon my bed. Bent over on the couch while I drilled her, pounding her face into a pillow. I replayed all of the hundreds of sexual fantasies I'd had about my sister in seconds, like a dying man's life flashing on fast-forward.

I imagined shredding the slingkini with my grasping hands--easily done, there was barely any fabric to tear--and filling my hands with her enormous jiggling tits. I wanted many things,

so many

things, that the wants were drops of water in a boiling dark sea of need.

Kat slid onto my lap, smirking and impudent and juvenile. The morals of a forty-year-old bawd and the attitude of a bratty toddler. My cock bulged and swelled, throbbing against her thigh.