Author's note: This is another in a continuing series of stories about the sexy siblings Jack and Irene. Other stories in the series include: Jack and Irene: Hideaway Heat Ch. III, Jack and Irene: Hideaway Heat Ch. II, Jack and Irene: Hideaway Heat Ch. 1, Heat Goes On With Jack and Irene: Ch. II;. Heat Goes on With Jack and Irene Ch.1, High Noon Heat With Jack and Irene, Hot Night With Jack and Irene Ch.2 and Hot Night With Jack and Irene.
Thanks to all who have sent private feedback. It is much appreciated and encourages me to go forward with this series.
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Jack's tongue probed deep inside his sister Irene's mouth as his hands wandered over her wide hips to her curvaceous yet toned ass. He squeezed her fleshy buttocks in his fingers, massaging them like dough. He dug his fingernails into her ass skin, sending shivers down her body and making his twenty-eight-year-old sister gasp and moan as their lips and tongues locked.
He drew away from her and stared into Irene's brown eyes. She smiled and tilted her head back and let her long brown hair cascade about her shoulders as she fell to her knees before him.
Jack thought he was wearing jeans, but in some manner of dream editing he didn't understand, they somehow disappeared and Irene knelt before his stiff cock, pumping it with her tightly clenched fist.
Jack groaned as the pressure grew in his cock and balls. He closed his eyes while his sister's hot tongue snaked over the head of his shaft. He sighed as his cock slipped into her mouth and was warmed by her breath and by turns comforted and provoked by her moist, but rough tongue.
This was it. He couldn't hold back. Not so fast Irene, not so fast, Jack thought. Slow down, you porn whore. I know you're my sister, but you're a porn whore too and you love my cock, love it too much, but slow down, dammit. Slow down, slut. Slow down I don't want to come just yet. But you feel so good. You love blowjobs don't you? You love blowing your brother. Fuck. Fuck. I..I..I don't want to jizz yet. I...I...ahhh....
With a loud moan, Jack fell awake, his groin burning with lust. He was lying alone. All the same, he stretched his arm across his bed to make sure he was alone.
He was alone all right. No Irene for him this morning. No Irene to hug and cuddle and tease and suck and pinch and thrust into and jizz on. No Irene to stare at, to play in the shower with, to watch undress and dance before him, to masturbate him and dominate him and submit to him.
No Irene at all. Just an unbearably hot dream and tantalizing memories and a proudly stiff cock that would always stand in salute to Irene, to her insatiable lust, her voluptuous body, her incredible demands, her delicious surrender.
Reluctantly, Jack arose from his bed. Saturday and he still had to work. Whatever. Get through it and get home and start jerking again to those memories made tangible with the pairs of Irene's thong panties he had saved, the lubricious pictures of her he had posted online.
As he pulled a pair of jockey briefs over his stiff manhood, he paused. Was that a moan? Funny how it sounded the same as Irene's moan in the dream. Where was it coming from? Who was making it?
The moaning, punctuated by gasps and deep, almost bestial grunts seemed to be from close by.
Was someone watching a porno?
Jack glanced at his bedside clock. Just before eight in the morning. Mom had a motivational seminar that she always went to on Saturday mornings with some of her friends from the real estate office. Dad was still out of town on a business trip. Who could be watching a porno, then?
Jack went to the door, opening it just enough to see what was going on in the hall.
The moaning was loud now. Jack leaned out and turned to the bathroom at the end of the hall.
The bathroom door was ajar. His mother was in the washroom, standing before the mirror, her long and curvy legs wide apart, her back turned to him. She was wearing only pink bikini panties and a matching bra that tastefully brought out the tempting curves of her mature yet still fit figure.
Her arms were folded around the front of her body. Her pretty face framed by her short-cropped curly black hair was reflected in the mirror. Her eyes were tightly shut and her face was masked in a strange frown that reminded Jack of the look of almost unendurable ecstasy that appeared on Irene's face when she had an orgasm with him.
Mom's shoulders rose and fell and her full D cup breasts quivered with the irregular rhythms of her sharp gasps and throaty moans. Jack was reminded of Irene's D cup breasts and how teasingly they shook as she walked, or when he was making ardent love to her.
As the image burned into his fevered and aroused mind, the truth slammed home to Jack with all the force of a hard blow to the solar plexus.
Mom was masturbating!
Jack closed the door as quietly as he could. Mom seemed so carried away with herself that he hoped she probably hadn't noticed him.
Jack leaned against the door, struggling to hear more sounds.
Mom was sighing now and mumbling to herself. I..I...fuck...I
What was she saying?
Jack's heart stopped and his cock stiffened just a bit more when he heard Mom cry out something he almost couldn't believe: Right there, Irene, right there! That feels so good, so fucking good with your tongue there! Taste me Irene! Taste me! I love coming...
Her voice broke down in shuddering gasps and soon silence enveloped the house.
Jack's stiff cock throbbed to the ferocious pounding of his racing heart, but he dared not touch himself. He didn't want to make any sounds in case Mom figured out he could hear what was happening.
He heard footsteps in the hall, then Mom's voice talking on the phone. "Hi, Helen, it's me, Shelley. I'm so sorry. I slept in today. Running late. You start the meeting and I'll be there for ten, okay? Right. See you there."