In Dreams Ch 03 1

In Dreams

This story contains descriptions of close family members engaged in entirely inappropriate activities that some may find either disturbing or hot. If you find family members fantasizing about or taking liberties with each other or otherwise behaving in naughty ways, then you probably should stop reading right about...now.

All characters in this story are fictional and are eighteen years or older. Any resemblance to any real person, living, dead or under the age of eighteen, is in your own dirty little mind. Sadly, most of the events portrayed in this story are not based on true events. I wish.

If you are still reading and are not offended by MILF or SILF or BILF and believe siblings behaving in very naughty ways is hot, I hope you enjoy this story.

Part 3

"I want to talk to you for a minute about orgasms."

Just a month ago, this might have been the most unlikely way imaginable for me to start a Skype with my sister. Now, though, after all that had happened over the last few weeks, it seemed like a natural conversation. Long overdue, I guess you could say.

"What about them?" Alyssa smiled, but it was a nervous smile. Even after the sordid debauchery of our recent nights, she still could not bring herself to say the word

orgasm

to me. On the few times we discussed them, the best she could muster was to call them a climax.

I liked saying orgasm to her, especially when I was looking at her gorgeous face on Skype. She has lovely, bright blue eyes--Skype fails to do them justice--fair skin with a smattering of freckles, and the hair hanging down to her shoulders is the most spectacular shade of red. She was 30 then, and I was 33, and I was sitting in a lovely wooded park far enough away from home that the odds of my wife or any of our friends stumbling upon me here was virtually zero.

"Tell me about your climaxes," I said, using the term she used to try to make her feel more comfortable. "The ones you're having now compared to the ones you had before."

"The ones other guys gave me, compared to yours?"

My cheeks burned. "That's not exactly how I meant it," I said, even though, to a certain extent, that was exactly what I meant. But I really was looking for more. "How do your dreams match up to reality? At least as far as orgasms go."

If you haven't read the first few parts of our story, let's just say my sister and I were caught up in a whirlwind of inexplicable lust. For weeks, we had shared the naughtiest and most wonderful dreams, probably in the history of dreams. At least,

dream

was our best working theory, even though we knew that is not what they were.

Confused yet? Well, imagine how we felt!

"Well, it's not so easy to say." Her lips started moving, and for a second, I thought there was a connection problem until I realized she was talking silently to herself. When she held up her fingers, I realized she was counting. "I think I've had four climaxes, with guys. Well, a guy."

"Oh, wow," is all I could say.

"Let's just say, Dale is more self-focused than some other guys in our family. And it's been so long since he gave me one, it's a bit like trying to remember how good it felt when they took my cast off my leg."

That was in her senior year in high school. Point made.

"Are you saying about 90% of the orgasms you've had during your entire lifetime have been during the last few weeks?"

"Unless you count the one's I've given myself--oh, my god, I can't believe we are sitting here talking about this!"

Yeah, it was hard to imagine my sister talking about diddling herself, but I was finding that particular topic quite interesting. While imagining my sister having sex had always been difficult, I had spent a fair amount of time over the years imagining her playing with herself. Usually when I was playing with myself.

"Okay, then, how does it compare to when you..." The word

masturbate

stuck in my throat. Despite the bizarre new intimacies we shared, we still had a long way to go until we could just sit around chatting about sex the way we do the weather. "When you give yourself one, is it the same?"

"Oh, no!" She spoke emphatically. "This is sooooooo much better."

"In what way?"

"Jeez, you are nosy!"

"I'm just trying to sort out what is happening to us. You are the one who wanted to conduct experiments to figure this out--shouldn't we interpret the results of those experiments?"

Apparently, interpreting the results of scientific tests is more acceptable than discussing my sister masturbating. "These are more intense. The ones I give myself are better than the ones Dale has given me, but the ones we've had are a hundred times more powerful. A thousand. It's almost like..."

"They are something else?"

"Yes! Yes! They aren't the same at all. Is that how yours are?"

The orgasms she was giving me in my dreams nearly every night were fucking insane. Possibly literally, definitely figuratively. It was a bit like the difference between rubbing the back of my neck when it was stiff and having a hot babe rub oil all over your back and give you a sensuous massage while you are sipping wine. In candlelight.

"I told you, the orgasms we have are so much better. More powerful. They last longer, too. Like thirty seconds or so, compared to a few seconds. Normally."

Nothing was normal about the orgasms we were giving each other. We lived hundreds of miles apart, but we were having simultaneous orgasms in the night, while we were having these crazy sex dreams. Or whatever they were. Because they were so real, so lifelike, I really was not sure they were dreams, but what other explanation was there?

We chatted for a while about other things, the way brothers and sisters do. The way dating couples do. We were pretty much both, at that point. It had been the best few weeks of my life, and she was as addicted to our dreams as I was.

There was one way to find out once and for all if this was my sister's doing.

It made me uncomfortable, in a way. It is one thing to have a date, quite another to climb through a girl's window in the middle of the night, creep to her bed and just attack her.

Not that it would be rape, or even anything close to it. For one thing, I wasn't even there; not really. And for the other, the one thing she never would do is say no. Not to me. Certainly not if I was right and she spent her spare time breaking into my head to molest me without consent.

But what if she was not?

Not quite sure how to do this, to carry out my wicked plan, I imagined the images in her head as she lay there before sleep. I imagined my sister's bedroom, her bed, her sleeping in it. I drifted off to sleep with these wonderful images running through my perverted little head.

Inside her house was dark, as you'd expect after everyone had gone to bed. I was in the den, and some of the kids' toys were still out; I took care not to trip over them.

Dressed all in black with a mask on my face, but could not see exactly what it looked like. Not a burglar mask, but something like a Halloween mask or something. Hopefully it was not too scary, but I was not about to turn on a light and find a mirror to check for myself. This was not a grand ball, this was a break-in.

My sister lay on her side, curled almost into a ball, sheet pulled up to her shoulders. Beside her, Dale snored loud enough to be heard all the way down the hall. He was a bit chubby, but that awful, check-him-for-sleep-apnea snore surprised me. How did Alyssa sleep long enough for us to have our dreams with all that racket? Maybe what we thought was minutes or hours in our dreams lasted but mere seconds.

No one really understands what dreams are. Even ordinary dreams, quite unlike ours.

The possibility we might wake up her husband was very real. Did Dale even exist in our reality? Did I exist in his? The dude owned guns, I knew, which technically might provide the best data for our experiments, but I preferred the data which I had a chance of surviving long enough to analyze. Data involving any body fluids other than blood flowing from a gaping bullet hole was of particular interest to me.

And unless Dale woke up shooting or my sister freaked the hell out, there will be an exchange of body fluids.

First, I pulled down the sheet. Underneath, my sister wore an enormous Hooter's Tee-shirt that must have been her husband's, although I vaguely remember losing one just like it years ago when I lived at my parents' house, and wondered if she had nicked mine back then. She may have been wearing panties, which I intended to find out soon enough.

Now was the most dangerous time.

I caressed her thigh up to where it disappeared under her nightshirt. On her hip, my fingers came upon cotton in the form of conservative underwear. Clearly, she did not expect anyone to uncover her tonight. Not me, at least. I was teaching her a lesson about being prepared and the power of dreams, one she hopefully would not soon forget.

What I forgot is the main reason I was here, having already disproved what I expected, that this was some witchcraft or telepathy she pulled on me. My being here, caressing her ass while she slept, proved I was as capable of controlling whatever this was as she was.

Her eyes opened, muscles instantly tensing in absolute terror seeing my masked form looming over her.

"Don't move," I said in my regular voice, to calm her. A nod indicated she understood, although wide eyes still looked close to panic. "Don't make a sound. Give in to me and you will be fine."

Dale snored away, oblivious to me rolling his wife over right next to him, spreading her legs wide, lifting up her shirt high enough to expose the boring gray panties she wore to bed with him, no match for the sexy silk she wore to see me the night before.

"Shh." One finger in front of my lips while the other slid up her velvety stomach to her chest until I held one of those remarkable breasts. Her eyes closed, and she made no effort to close her legs from how wide I spread them before me.

My other hand, no longer needed to keep her quiet, slid up and down the inside of one thigh while the other kneaded her boob. Her body is so intoxicating.

I tugged those ugly panties so hard one seam pulled out, leaving only a ring around one thigh, which fell away when she moved, exposing to me the beautiful gem between her legs. Pale moonlight took away the brilliant red color, so light she almost appeared smooth shaved. My fingers, though, running through those curls, told a far different story.

Still terrified, her body twitching with each new touch, I suppose she wondered how long until the spell would be broken: her husband awakened and started shooting the masked intruder who was molesting his wife. Wet and hot, her musky smell rose up to me as I pulled aside her silken folds and slipped a finger inside her.

The gasp she let out should have awakened her snoring husband, had he been a part of our carnal universe. He might be there, right next to her, but only she and I existed in whatever world we found ourselves.

I teased her for far too long before massaging her flesh button, but by then, she was so primed she moaned loudly and began to squirm. I left her wanting more, though, because her climax might send me back to my bed. Good as my wet dream promised to be, another part of my plan remained unfulfilled.

Gripping her collar, I pulled her up to a sitting position, licking her juices from the fingers on the other hand that had been inside her honeypot seconds before. I wanted to taste her more, but was beginning to learn how to control myself while in this bizarre dream.

My cock was so hard, it didn't pull smoothly out of my pants as I planned. Luckily, she was willing to help, and her diminutive fingers carefully extracted it from my fly. I pulled her hair back and down, raising her chin to within an inch of my throbbing cock.

"You know what I came for?"

"Yes," she answered, struggling to stifle a smile as she played her role perfectly. "You came for me."

"I came for your sweet mouth! And I

will

come for you."

I was pretty sure she wanted to take my prick into her mouth almost as much as I wanted it there, but I suspect her husband sawing logs a foot away truly did terrify her. I was going to defile his wife, his marital bed, her lovely mouth all at the same time. And she wanted it, too. Yearned to feel what it is to be possessed by an incubus, to be freed from the marital vows to the man snoring so obnoxiously next to her.

Pulling a handful of copper hair tight, I said threateningly as possible, "Open your mouth."

I'd never been rough with her--never wanted to be--but Incubus does not ask. Incubus takes. Her lips parted, but only a little, because she was pretty scared. I guess this mask was scary--whatever it is--and I was acting my part well. Her eyes widened in horror as I shoved her face toward me and thrust my aching cock into her warm, scared mouth.

Dale stopped breathing.

I had her head in both hands, and as Dale snorted and gurgled and began breathing again, I jammed my cock all the way into his wife's warm mouth. Her eyes pleaded up at me, scared as she's looked since as a kid, and I just started face-fucking her. At first, her body stiffened to resist, but then she gave in and let me manhandle her head.

Then, she started pumping hard on her own.

I mean, she was really into it, my cock hitting the back of her throat, sucking unbelievably hard as she reluctantly let it slide out, ramming her head forward onto me again. And again, and again.

Letting go of her head, because my little sis obviously had this under control, I began massaging her shoulders, which is probably not a very Incubus-like thing to do. She loved me possessing her, enough to let me do whatever I pleased to her. Enough to enjoy it because it was

my

cock in her beautiful mouth.

This was pretty much the last thing I expected from her, yet...my sister had given herself fully to me, as I had given myself to her. At least in these dream fantasy things. One thing I knew for sure: she'd never let this snoring fat fuck next to her cum in her mouth, and she'd never--ever--swallow his seed like she swallowed mine. It might not be real, although she said it was, or felt that way.

She swallowed that DNA we shared because it was mine, and because she loved giving me this inappropriate pleasure.

She had my ass in both hands, holding on to pull my cock into her mouth with as much gusto as I shoved it into her before she took over. It was fucking amazing, and as I started to cum in her mouth, I was back in my own bed having that orgasm meant for her.

And while those gushers of ecstasy continued, I was already aware of the fact that she might be able to control these dreams--when they happened, what we did in them and where we were when we did it--but I also possessed the same power.

The Incubus test worked like a charm. We still did not know what the hell was happening, but at least we now knew it went both ways. In more ways than one.

First thing in the morning, my phone rang. Not Skype, the phone. Alyssa, of course. When I picked up the phone I was physically shaking.

"Hey..."

"What the hell was that?"

"Listen, I'm really sorry about that..."

"Sorry? Seriously? What are you sorry about?"

"Well, it felt a little like sexual assault when I did it..."

She laughed, and the phone distorted enough to not be sure what kind of laugh it was. "There is no such thing as a little sexual assault."

"Alyssa, I really am sorry about that..."

"Why do you keep apologizing? That was the hottest thing E-VER! Oh my god! And you can't very well sexually assault someone who went to sleep wishing tonight was tomorrow night when you would do pretty much what we did last night."

"It wasn't too much?"

"Don't worry--I'll be sure to let you know if you do something that is too much. If I thought it was too much, I'd have bitten the thing off, right? I mean, this isn't real, is it? If you broke in and shaved my head, in the morning when I wake up, my hair will still be there; am I right?"

It was an interesting question, one that might be worth an experiment. But for that night, I had another experiment in mind.

"Tonight, wherever we go, bring lipstick. The brightest red lipstick you have."

"Bring it or wear it?"

"Wear it, but bring some, if you can."

"Ooh, sounds intriguing! I will be sure to bring a tube with me."

We were making out like a couple of school kids. Not sure where we were, but it didn't matter. We had been kissing for so long, it was like one of those dreams when you wake up and you feel like it lasted all night.

About half the time I was squeezing her boobies like I was trying to juice them. Her breasts really are remarkable, so firm and sensitive. Every touch makes her body shudder a little, and there are very few things I enjoy more than making my sister's body shudder.

"Did you bring lipstick?"

"Right here in my pocket," she said, which was weird because she didn't have any pockets when I was groping her derriere a little while ago, and I sure as heck didn't miss anything as big as a tube of lipstick. But sure enough, there it was.

"Can I put it on you?"

"Oh lord," she laughed, "this is going to be bad, isn't it?"

"Probably," I answered, although it didn't matter, because in whatever dream world or alternative universe we found ourselves, there never was anyone else to know what we were doing or how terribly her makeup was applied. Which, come to think of it, is a little strange, because in regular dreams other people show up from time to time, right? But never in ours.

I love how pale and soft her lips are. In fact, depending on my mood and how long we'd been kissing or she'd been sucking on me, sometimes those luscious, full lips are my favorite body part of hers. Applying the lipstick pulled them, even with the lightest touch, and if I didn't perpetually have a boner in those dreams, rubbing that phallic stick against those lips would have sprung one.

"Now what," she asked when I finished. It wasn't so bad, but it was a LOT of lipstick.

"Now, I want you to give me oral sex. And when you do, I want you to leave as much lipstick as far up on me as possible because..."

"If you wake up and there is a ring of lipstick, that will prove these are not dreams, but are something physical."

"Exactly," I answered.

"That's a pretty darn good experiment," she said, and I had to agree, although any experiment which involved my sister sucking on my cock was, by definition, an extremely awesome experiment.

She got into it, too. She always really did enjoy science. She was getting better with blow jobs each time we had one, too. Better yet, now I wasn't busting my nut soon as those luscious lips touched me, but got to lay back and enjoy this one for a while.

She did a freaking amazing job leaving the ring way up at the root, a couple of times twisting when she had it all the way down her throat, which was a great way to help leave a lipstick ring on me--or even if it didn't. A BJ this good, though, cannot last too long, and sometimes just the sight of my cock disappearing inside my sister's gorgeous lips is nearly enough to get me off by the visuals alone.

Her tongue tickled the bottom, the way she does so well and...

I was in bed with my wife, my shorts filling up with goo. I didn't wait around long, not only due to the volume she sucked out of me that was now in danger of dripping all over our bed, but because, after all, this was purely a science experiment. In the bathroom, I turned on the light, pulled out my dripping, throbbing cock and...

There was a ring around my cock. A bright red ring.