Horny Little Women

Disclaimer: Whilst the writer does not necessarily condone inter-family relations, he acknowledges the fact it makes rather erotic reading! Enjoy.

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Matthew Ryder watched as the hands of the big clock inched round to 11 am, narrowing like the blades on a set of shears. Uncomfortable in the charcoal suit and matching sombre tie, he bowed his head to stare at a pair of patent leather shoes in which it was almost possible to make out his handsome yet sad features. Sartorially, if not mentally, prepared for what lay ahead, a single stray tear began a leisurely trail down the young man's cheek. At the tender age of twenty, losing a father was a heartbreaking wrench, particularly when the father in question happened to be the only family Matthew had ever known.

Close by in the cramped front room, his grandma rustled the curtains nosily as old folks do. Until two days ago, when his whole world imploded, Matthew hadn't even known she and his grandpa were still alive. Clad in black also, her shape and frizzled white hair made her look like a pint of Guinness. "The car's here," she announced, then more brusquely: "Come on Arthur, get your jacket...Okay, Matthew?"

The words directed the young man's way were sympathetic and measured as they had been for the past 48 hours. It was as if he was some precious piece of china that could so easily break. Matthew nodded silently and stood, smoothing himself down, his spiky brown hair ruffled compassionately by his grandfather, also colour co-ordinated in black. It was tough on them too, Matthew realised. Losing a son was not quite right in the great scheme of things or that parents should outlive their offspring, even if it was his selfish father. Fortunately for them the hurt was dissipated by Matthew's father having voluntarily distanced himself, fleeing to Manila some two decades back with their grandson in tow, and no word since – until now.

Silence prevailed throughout the journey as the hearse sauntered its way to the grey cemetery. The subsequent service went on around Matthew without his really noticing, the words hollow and worthless, his grief unquenchable. Distant relatives, made more distant by his father's stubborn refusal to leave Manila, offered condolences prompting Matthew to issue forced smiles. Then finally the coffin was lowered into the ground, taking with it his father.

Still in a daze, he was led away by his grandparents to be driven somewhere remote and leafy for the wake. Referred to as 'Hannah's house', in his state of mind Matthew didn't realise the significance at first. Head pounding, it was only after a couple of stiff brandies, foisted upon him by some anonymous uncle, that the surroundings began to take shape. Tangible features on those around him slowly formed, as if a thick fog had suddenly evaporated. And there before him stood an attractive blonde older woman, forced smiles on both sides. "We didn't get to talk at the cemetery. I'm so sorry, Matthew."

He thanked her politely as he had all the others, not knowing who she was or how she knew his father. "Matthew, I'm Hannah March...I'm your mother."

The young man's eyes bulged like a goldfish's and he broke out in a cold sweat. Wow was he supposed to respond to a woman his father's stubbornness had forbade him from ever contacting, let alone meeting? All he knew was that she was an evil woman with a fixation for American literature, who had fucked every guy she met and who had broken his father's heart.

Standing face to face, she seemed anything but evil and nothing like he'd imagined. She was on a par with Sharon Stone or Kim Basinger at forty. And oh those breasts... Matthew wasn't sure of the protocol, whether they should hug, kiss, shake hands, or what? Evidently Hannah felt likewise, the result an embarrassed-looking standoff.

Thankfully, the situation was salvaged by the arrival at her side of a petite and pretty young girl roughly the same age as Matthew. With smooth brunette hair, deep hazel eyes and a personable manner, she was as equally breathtaking as his mother. Hannah spoke, addressing her long-lost son. "This is Meg...she's, um, she's your sister...half sister."

Meg smiled demurely.

Matthew knew he had a sister, or several sisters to be exact. Even his secretive father hadn't been able to suppress that information. Yet Matthew had been given an ultimatum: warned to give up hope of ever meeting them. If he did, he could forget about his father forever. Even after attaining adulthood, when he could make his own decisions in life, his father's influence had been all-encompassing.

"Come on bro," offered Meg with a radiant smile, slotting her fingers into his, "I'll introduce you to the others."

Matthew took a deep breath, looking at his mother for approval. It didn't seem right to leave her so quickly. But she smiled warmly and indicated to go with Meg. There'd be time enough to catch up later, she affirmed: three more days before the flight 'home' to Manila. Her parting touch on his shoulder was tender and loving.

In the short space of time it took to wander from lounge to living room, Matthew had learned that Meg was the eldest of his four sisters. Actually they were all half sisters, each with a different father. His mother, it seemed, had been something of a slut – Meg's words not his – in her youth. That tied in with what his father had alluded to.

Yet despite his outward air of confidence, Matthew baulked at the words, especially coming from the mouth of a sweet young girl, even if she did happen to be two years his senior. For the truth was Matthew had led a sheltered life, his sole sexual experience at the hands of Mae-Lin, his father's Filipino maid. Pushing fifty, Mae-Lin was not the stuff of a teen boy's fantasy, but sex was sex to a lonesome individual who had reached adulthood still a virgin.

Meg introduced Jo who was the second eldest of the girls, and a year Matthew's senior. With short spiky boyish hair and eschewing make-up, she was not unattractive though in the company of three beauties she did not shine.

"This is Beth," announced Meg, moving along the line.

A dusky skinned girl in the last year of teenage, Beth pursed her lips in greeting, her half-caste toning attesting to his mother's penchant for black guys that Matthew's bigoted father had taken to the grave. It was the catalyst that forced his father to flee England for the Philippines with Matthew in tow twenty years ago. Yet if his father had seen the fruits of the relationship, surely he'd have proffered a different opinion, for Beth was by far the most stunning of the four, her mocha tinted skin as smooth as rayon.

The last of the quartet was yet another little beauty with golden hair in ringlets and a pair of piercing ocean-blue eyes behind rectangular spectacles. "You must be Amy," pre-empted Matthew, displaying a limited yet serviceable knowledge of the work of Louisa May Alcott.

Amy smiled in greeting.

"Amy's the baby," enlightened Meg.

"Am not," Amy retorted, screwing up her pretty features. "I'm eighteen in two days time," she said proudly.

"You're still the baby of the family," Beth retorted, an impish twinkle in her deep brown eyes as she tried to impress the new family member.

Amy pouted and folded her arms.

Given that none of the girls knew Matthew's father, the grief that was overbearing elsewhere in the house was in short supply. And that suited Matthew just fine. Having had to endure two days of his grandparents' hurt on top of his own, he craved an escape. The funeral done and dusted and the dead laid to rest it was time to look forward in a more positive vein.

Matthew would have loved to get to know them better but, at that moment, he was whisked away to the garden by grandpa to be introduced to other distant relatives. He smiled dutifully, soaking up the sympathy like a sponge until finally he was set free. Torn between spending some time with his newfound sisters or heading off away from the house for some peace and quiet, he elected for solitude.

The garden small and compact, it was what it gave way to captured Matthew's attention. Standing at the perimeter, he could actually hear water trickling the other side. Hopping up and over the brick wall, immediately he began to descend alarmingly down a dusty slope, feet unable to gain a grip and pulling up only at the last moment before his new shoes dipped in the meandering stream.

On the other side of the watery expanse a thicket of trees rustled. The city dweller could barely believe his eyes. This was tranquil and fresh, in stark comparison to the humdrum and stifling urban existence he'd become acclimatised to in Manila. Only now did it register on Matthew that two decades of his life had been wasted and never brought back. Despite everything, he couldn't help but feel resentful of his father.

Locating a log that had been laid across the stream as a makeshift bridge, Matthew hopped across. Heading towards the wood, twigs beneath his feet made a wondrous sound as they snapped, whilst covert crickets chirped a cacophony. So exhilarating to be away from the claustrophobic and choking funeral party, his only regret was being lumbered with a suit and tie. Loosening at the neck, he worked the tie free and popped open the top button of the shirt that had seriously constricted the flow of oxygen.

Matthew felt free at last, in so many ways.

He could happily have stripped off all the clothes of conformity and gambolled around in just his boxer shorts. Yet Matthew had been raised a conservative fellow, unaccustomed to nudity. Mae-Lin was the first and only woman he'd witnessed naked. That merely intensified the longing for a girl his own age to strip naked, to let him touch her firm breasts and do all the things that horny twenty-year olds dream of. A sagging middle-aged woman hardly bore comparison.

It was just as well he didn't allow the newfound lack of inhibition to run riot, for at that moment a gentle yet urgent whirring sound filled the air. Stepping off the path at the last moment, he felt a whoosh as a muscled and tanned guy, clad in lycra and sporting a baseball hat, flashed by on a mountain bike.

Ten seconds later, a second bike passed. This time the rider was female. Struggling to keep up with her male cycle buddy, the girl's cute backside was raised as she stood down hard on the pedals in flip-flops, puffing and panting as the forest floor stifled her progress like it was made of treacle.

Stopping up ahead to wipe a forearm across a moistened brow, she turned briefly to glance at Matthew, offering a half-smile through the pain. Her breasts that heaved at a cream coloured tank top looked like they craved to be squeezed. Before there was time to return the compliment, however, she was gone, her arse bobbling seductively.

The peace restored, Matthew's only companions in the forest during a mile-long stroll were the birds that hid furtively in the trees, the squirrels that slid smoothly through the undergrowth like creepers and the watchful crickets keeping time like a metronome. Reaching a clearing, Matthew contemplated getting back to the house. Yet he was drawn by a sixth sense down an almost hidden path that would take him even farther away from his destination. Glancing down, he noted its dusty surface scored by two thin tyre tracks.

Following the trail for another mile, once more the distant sound of water rippling was audible. It was then that the tyre trail ended, two bikes hastily discarded on their sides a few feet away. His eyebrows elevated at the discovery of a discarded white Adidas trainer, then another a few feet on. Next was a balled-up black sock, then another. Continuing in some Hansel and Gretel-style trail, the breadcrumbs substituted for items of clothing, Matthew encountered a pair of flip-flops, then a lime green lycra top, shorts and a baseball cap. More intriguingly, he discovered a ruffled-up tank top, accompanied by a throbbing feeling between his legs.

It became even more intense upon spying what could only be described as the Holy Grail: a skimpy bra and thong set in matching lilac. Reaching down, Matthew caught hold of the thong, bringing the crotch to his nose and breathing in deeply. It reeked of intoxicating pussy juice. A more subtle aroma than the stench that seemed to be ingrained in his fingers for days after playing with Mae-Lin, Matthew felt his entire body quake with desire. This was young female in her sexual prime.

Slowing, he tiptoed towards another clump of trees, through which the stream down below swelled into a wide bowl like a private swimming pool. Able to creep closer, tree by tree, he heard voices, breath held tight. Visible from the waist up, the couple frolicked in the stream. Mesmerised, Matthew couldn't take his eyes off the girl's breasts, big and bouncy with droplets of water clinging to the expanse of flesh. A sight to behold – only the second naked woman he'd ever set eyes upon – Matthew had to shift position to attain comfort, the throbbing in his groin an unwelcome distraction.

But things would get better, much better. Without warning the boyfriend ducked down, disappearing beneath the black marble surface. The scene before Matthew lapsed into freeze-frame as suddenly the girl squealed, her legs taken from beneath her. Riding momentarily on the guy's strong shoulders, a squeal rang out as she was bucked clear, flashing the briefest snatch of pubic hair before she hit the water. Yet despite its ephemeral nature, the image of that pretty pussy was imprinted on Matthew's brain like a lingering filament.

Surfacing, the girl shot a look that was stern yet playful. The pair grappled, sinking below the surface before emerging in a heated embrace. Their lips smacked purposefully before tongues made exploratory manoeuvres within. Matthew found himself rooted to the spot, a hand brushing across his crotch, guiltily appraising the semi-hardness. He was sorely tempted to masturbate, such was the effect the couple were having on him.

Just as well he didn't follow his urge, for at that moment Matthew discovered he and the couple were no longer alone in their reverie. "They sent me to find you," clarified Meg, causing her younger brother's face to turn a spectral white and perspire profusely as his eyes darted from Meg to the lovers like a spectator at a tennis match. "Did you, um, want to be alone?"

More terrified of discovery by the couple than of discovery by Beth of his guilty secret, Matthew pursed his lips and placed an upright finger to them, craving quiet. Easing up close to see what held his attention so raptly, Meg gasped hoarsely. "Matthew!"

"Shush," he said, arms flapping.

They exchanged furtive glances before Meg moved in front to gain a more favourable pitch. In doing so, his eldest sister's arse brushed the partial erection, thankfully enclosed behind suit trousers and boxers yet nonetheless causing Matthew to staunch a groan. A cheeky glance up and aside as the shaft slotted cosily in the groove, Meg relaxed into her long lost brother's big strong chest. Chin dipping to rest upon her crown, Matthew towered over the girl, fixing his gaze once more on the courting couple, hands hanging redundantly by his sides.

He could feel his heartbeat thumping into Meg's shoulder as the couple up ahead petted furiously. Growing tired of the water, the guy lifted the girl into his arms and climbed from the stream, dripping wet. Meg pushed back as if scared they might be discovered, yet Matthew remained rooted, the sudden movement rubbing his foreskin as it fitted ever more snugly into the accommodating groove.

The lovers moved to within twenty paces, blissfully ignorant of their audience. Unashamedly exposed to the elements, they seemed unfazed by a slight chill in the air, illustrated on the girl's erectile nipples. Matthew could hardly take his eyes off them, except to gaze down longingly at the gorgeous and smoothly shaven pussy in matching pink. At the same time, Meg's eyes were fixed firmly to a thick cock that swung impressively between the guy's legs.

As Matthew's hands hung idly, Meg moved hers behind to rub his buttocks. Forgetting they were brother and sister, instinctively Matthew began to move his groin in time. Both could, however, be forgiven the dalliance for there'd barely been time for it to sink in properly that were brother and sister. Not that they were – in the conventional sense at least. Parted for two decades, there was no emotional bond between the pair, just a sprinkling of shared DNA. That and the fact they were two exceedingly horny twenty-somethings seemed to excuse their actions.

And it wasn't just Matthew. Meg purred as she moved her arse all over his stiffening cock, and that seemed to make things okay. She was as complicit as he.

Up in the clearing the guy had succeeded in working his cock up into a savage looking beast, sprouting proud in all its circumcised glory. The girl moved in stealthily on all fours like a prowling tigress, tongue running seductively around the inner circumference of her lips. Leaning back upon his elbows, chest inflated, the guy reached out for his girlfriend's hair, ensnaring a set of fingers in the brunette tangles and wrestling her face close to that outstanding appendage. Dipping her head, the girl smiled as her tongue tip touched his balls lightly before licking all the way up the rampant shaft. At the crest she licked the eye lovingly before enveloping the engorged head with a succulent mouth.

Matthew felt Meg's body tense against his and her breath begin to quicken, a guilt-ridden glance his way before settling back down on his cock and rolling it between her arse cheeks like a hotdog in a bun. If Matthew closed his eyes, he could envisage the act minus the layers of clothing that prevented the hard cock splitting the petals of her soft moist pussy. Meg felt it too, clamping her thighs tight to rub her aroused cunt lips together.

Hands still hanging idly by his sides, Matthew felt the overwhelming urge to feel her tits. Yet he hesitated, wracked by doubt. As if to prompt some action, Meg arched her back and pushed out her delightfully pert chest like a rooster. A pair of thick nipples strained at the front of the light blouse and threatened to pop the buttons. The outline of a lacy half cup bra beneath the blouse sent Matthew crazy with desire and, shaking like an arthritic, his hands elevated. It was as if suddenly he'd been possessed and nothing could stop it from happening. As Meg held her breath in heightened anticipation Matthew's palms covered the soft orbs, fingers reflexing.

The effect on Meg was startling, eliciting an audible breathy squeal that very nearly gave them away. Yet the couple were so engrossed in their own lustful games that it went unchecked. Adjusting, Matthew ran his thumbs around each teat, tracing small circles. Scared of what she might unleash, Meg's front teeth embedded firmly in the bottom lip, eyes screwed tight as the feeling between her thighs liquefied.

Up ahead, the guy had arrived at the throes of ecstasy, the girl anxious to join him. Running a hand down her spine and backside, she plunged two fingers deep into her gaping cunt as she continued to deepthroat her boyfriend with vigour. Sucking and licking, she frigged her pussy wildly, inducing an intense orgasm and a light spray from her cunt that hung momentarily in the air like a sprinkle of perfume. Simultaneously the guy began to exhale, his face contorting like he'd stood on a wasp.

The girl felt the first telltale jerk, tossing back her head and finishing him off with a blurring fist. Cum ejected like foam from a fire hose, looping in the air and peppering the girl's face and tits. She kept labouring away until every last drop had been drained and the once impressive cock melted in her hand.