"Oh, my cunny needs fucking so badly!"
"What do you think we're doing here!"
I was really pounding Carrie. The delicacy of our first coupling in the cave had given way to grinding fuck-thrusting, real shoving and straining: the natural progression, my sister observed, from all the wrestling we'd done when we were younger.
The trick in making Carrie cum hard, so that her pussy pulses my penis, is deep-fucking: Pinning her. Actually *limiting* her thrust-back.
This is relatively easy. Strong as she is, she's petite. A pixie. I'm almost twice her size. I hold her cute round bottom in the span of my hands, marvel at the soft-hardness of her lean glutes. She clutches my butt, too, which I love.
Deep-fuck.
She fucks back like a champion, but I've (gently but firmly) got her pelvis in a lock, so that her engorged clit is under constant pressure, a button pushed down before it can fully pop-up. But a super-horny girl like my sister is cunning of cunny: her thrust-back allows her clit to enjoy friction, up-down, side-to-side, and *swirling*.
My own fuck is built on the basic principle that my cock must aspire always to penetrate-further Carrie's pussy. And damn she's tight! My penis gets squeezed without mercy, glans to root. There is no "slapping," in this style of fuck, no "splooshing." Every movement is fast, controlled, oppositional (meaning: Carrie is trying to fuck me harder than I am hard-fucking her). None of this would be possible if I did not keep a firm grip on her bottom. Our quads, well developed in both Carrie and me, also help to lock us in place.
Kissing is very important. In fact, our tongues are fucking, too. As if our groins have been left to their own urgent business. Autonomous. But there is a symmetry of action and intensity between mouth and groin.
In time, our mouths must commit wholly to breathing. I gaze at Carrie's pretty face, the light spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She smiles, almost shyly. ("Pouting" lips can also make for a very cute smile.) Our matching sets of dark blue eyes smile, too. The heaving and shuddering of her bosom. Her nipples erect and wet from my tonguing and slurping and sucking.
And there it is. The red flush, crimson at the suprasternal notch, that has spread across her upper chest: the signal that she is about to cum. It lingers for some time afterwards. (Thinking back, I realize that all the times I'd noticed that flush to her chest and neck meant that Carrie'd just masturbated.)
Building and building to O. You'd like to soar forever at the cum-limen, but it's impossible. Which is the whole point. Achieving the zenith, I release the first torrent of jism into my sister. She's been waiting for this. Her orgasm commences.
"Oh my pussy!" Carrie screams. "My pussy's being fucked!" She can manage words, whole sentences. I'm just grunting with every full-bore blast. "Oh! Your cock is squirting cum into my pussy!" And then the pulsing of Pussy while my cock twitches and spurts its last.
Still thrusting, clutching her bottom, I swivel my right ring finger to her sphincter, lightly touch it: it's keeping a beat, the infallible Richter scale of the endurance and intensity of Carrie's orgasm.
As for me, a long and intense fuck such as what Carrie and I have (overnight!) perfected, produces, in orgasm, an almost mystic awareness, not obtainable as conscious thought during the event, but somehow *known* in a primordial way: that my penis, ejaculating, is "other" from the rest of my being. That it is, in orgasm, somehow... ensouled.
...
Bonny Hind House. The first week of summer. My twin sister and I are in sole possession of the grand old manse and its ninety isolated acres. (Though the arrival of our cousins is entirely too imminent.) All we do is fuck and play with each other's nude bodies, kiss and cuddle.
"Finn."
"Yeah, Carrie."
"I need to suck your cock."
"Good luck."
It's three p.m. Since ten this morning I've volleyed more semen into my sister's vagina and mouth than I ever thought possible.
We've moved the mattress and bedding out to the porch off our room. Being naked outdoors, running your hand along the curves and contours of a gorgeous naked girl; masturbating her while being masturbated by her; lapping at her pussy while she thrashes in ecstasy; fucking her hard and fast, fucking her gently and slowly... this is when sex gets celestial, launched free of common rutting into the empyrean of the gods. If I remember my Greek mythology, brothers copulating with their sisters was a theme often visited by classical civilization.
Speaking of visits. "Suck Finn's cock" seems to have become a regular entry in my sister's social calendar.
She's crept down my torso to align her lips with my languid penis. Her tongue darts out to slap the large purple-pink corona. Then quick licks along the shaft. But I know my greedy sister. All this pointillist fellating cannot satisfy her need to hold my cock in her mouth and softly suck, "mmmmmmm"-ing as the spongy tissue swells, lengthening and expanding.
A mackerel sky above us; the ocean pluming the rocks below us. Through a deft combination of suck and pump, Carrie is rewarded with a jet of jism. She swallows. Smiles. Says, "Ahhh!" Like her thirst's been quenched. It was the rhythmic swaying of her tits that did it, made me come. That and the auburn pubic triangle. And the toile de Jouy ribbon she'd used to fashion a ponytail, her hair getting blonder by the day in the summer sun. Yes, gazing upon my sister's nude beauty turned the tide.
"Damn, that's good fun," Carrie says, nuzzling me.
"What's that about?" I gasp, trying to tally the ridiculous number of times since we returned from the cave that Carrie has abruptly, wantonly, taken my cock into her mouth.
"What's what about?"
"Sucking my cock. Swallowing my cum."
"I dunno. Blowjob qua blowjob doesn't interest me. I dislike the term, actually."
"Yeah. It's pretty inelegant."
Carrie giggles. I think it's because I've just said something droll.
"'Inelegant'? If I were a guy, I'd be more concerned about possible confusion."
"Whadd'ya mean?"
"There's this comedy-album mix tape someone left in the ballroom. There's one bit, this guy's a TV newscaster and he's caught on camera talking to his girlfriend on the phone, and he says, 'No, you don't actually *blow* on it.'"
"That's funny."
"So 'blowjob' is a no-go. But replace that with what flashes through my mind: 'I want to suck on his cock. I want to feel Finn's cock harden and throb in my mouth.' That's what I think. And there's nothing I want more in the world."
"What about the cum?"
"Does Annie swallow or spit?"
"A gentleman never tells."
"She spits. Yeah, she spits." Carrie clambers atop me to tickle my ribs. My sister's been making jibes about my absent girlfriend.
I'm hard again. Again! Carrie is wet, very wet. She scoots her pussy down and wriggles onto my cock. We both groan, but this won't be (cannot be!) a full-fledged fuck. Just a fun way to keep the conversation rolling.
"So... ahhhhh... why *do* you swallow?"
