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.
*
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."
More footsteps, then the shower ran for a few minutes. Afterward, Mom padded back to the bedroom and shortly after, went downstairs. Soon, Jack could hear her starting her car and leaving for the meeting.
He lay down on the bed, his cock bulging through the strained fabric of his undershorts, thinking about what he'd heard. He wanted to touch himself, bring himself to orgasm, but he couldn't believe what he'd heard and seen.
Mom masturbating out in the open and fantasizing about Irene. She must have known Jack would've discovered her. Did she want Jack to hear her? If so, why?
Jack knew Mom was attractive. She was always joking about guys at work flirting with her. Many a time had he walked down the street with her while she'd been dressed in the short skirt and jacket outfits she wore at the office and he could see men passing by, their eyes lingering over his mother, sizing up her fit fifty-four year old body and her youthful good looks and the teasing way she dressed, and liking and clearly lusting after what they saw.
Yet, she was still his Mom, the woman who had given him his life. Lusting after her was very different from sleeping with Irene. In spite of her good looks, Jack had never desired his Mom in the way he had lusted after Irene. Even after today's events, he couldn't admit that he was turned on by her.
Jack thought maybe if he thought of Mom by her name, this would make her more distant, more like any other woman he saw on the street or saw a picture or video of on the Internet. Yes, if he did that, he could stroke to her.
He closed his eyes and thought of how Mom, well, Shelley, looked this morning and pictured her straddling him on his bed just as Irene would've done, lowering herself, teasing her soaking womanhood against his stiff twenty-one-year-old prick.
Come on, Shelley. Ride me. Ride my cock. Fuck me! Fuck me!
Automatically, Jack lifted his pelvis off the bed, thrusting his cock savagely at empty air. After a few thrusts, without his even having to touch it, his cock exploded in massive thunderbolts of jism, flooding his shorts and transforming them into a sticky mass.
After his orgasm subsided and his body had stilled, Jack glanced at the beside clock.
Eight-forty-five.
Reality crashed through the haze of his lust and Jack threw himself from the bed and ran to the door to the shower.
Time to get to work. He had to be at the store in an hour.
*
The shift droned by and somehow, Jack endured it. Jen wasn't in that day, so he was left alone to stock shelves and do inventory, all the while, his mind wandering back to what had happened with Mom that morning. He couldn't forget about seeing her before the mirror in her panties and bra, her sexy, muscular yet voluptuous legs proudly apart, her nimble fingers pleasuring herself.
At last, six o'clock dragged around and Jack was free to leave.