The Watching Game

The Watching Game Ch 02

Author's note. Everyone involved in sexual activity in this story is over the age of 18, of course, and are imaginary. The story contains explicit descriptions of oral and vaginal sex, and references to anal sex between consenting adults.

In my dream Amie was there, sleeping beside me with her hair spread on the pillow in a curtain of gold and her breath as light as a shadow. I gazed down at her naked body: her lips swollen by our kisses and her cheeks red from the press of my unshaven skin. The sheet was pulled aside and I could see her breasts, standing proud with the nipples stiff with desire, and the creamy texture of her skin gleamed in the candlelight.

She opened her eyes and I could see lumps of dried semen in their corners, and a crust of jism around her lips. Her eyes were like glass shards as she stared at me reproachfully, silently lifting the sheet to reveal the plain of her belly and the juncture of her thighs. Her legs were apart, shrouded in shadow but I could see the tight crease of her vulva - and then, as I watched, the lips suddenly gaped open and a river of sperm poured out, bubbling and splattering in its release: thick and glutinous, drenching her thighs and spreading over the sheet in a steaming pool to reach her knees. She opened her mouth to speak and a fountain burst from her lips, gushing over her chin like clotted cream to splatter over her breasts and gather in the crevices of her body. There was pints of it: a flood of jism that seemed to flow forever until her body was covered in it, clinging to her skin like white paste and streaming over the mattress to spill onto the floor.

And finally the flow diminished until only the last few dribbles hung from her chin in thick slimy cords and she regarded me with her wet, shiny lips.

"You did that to me, Jack," she said. "Last night, all of it." Her voice hardened. "You fucked your little sister, spraying into me when I told you not to. How do you feel about that?"

For a moment she stared at me and her glittering golden eyes speared into my soul like a scalpel - and then her image evaporated like a mirage in the heat of a desert, and I spiraled upwards from sleep to find my bed empty and my heart hammering in my chest.

And as I lay there I recalled the night before: the feel of her body and the clasp of her limbs as she drew me into her liquid depths. I had fucked her through the long hours of the night and into the early glow of dawn, her cunt as tight as a mouse's ass and her sighs and moans loud in my ears. I recalled the glorious details: my sperm spraying over her face, dribbling and drooling into her mouth; her legs over my shoulders and her eyes bright with lust as I ploughed into her, and the tight rhythmic contractions of her pussy as she sucked my seed into her body. I'd cum four or five times during the night, hosing into her body through one orifice or another...hardly the lake of sperm represented in my dream, but it had been enough to fill her. I recalled the silver smears on her thighs tinged pink by virgin blood, and I remembered my cream oozing out of her vulva to trickle over her perineum. The air in my room had been thick with the scent of our fucking, and even now I could taste it on my tongue and smell it on my skin.

In the cold light of day I lay in bed and my mind was racked with remorse. She was my baby sister - twelve years younger than me, and I had taken her virginity and rutted with her for my own pleasure. I thought of the rest of the family: Donna in exile in London for reasons unknown, and James...God knew where he was, or why he had left. Only Amie and I were left, and I knew what it would do to Mum if she ever found out about us.

And so I held my head in my hands, remembering what we had done and how much I had enjoyed it, and the guilt was as thick as tar in my heart. She was young and beautiful and I loved her, but I resolved never to fuck my little sister again.

*****

Mum shoveled another slice of ham onto my plate. "You're late this morning," she observed.

"I didn't sleep very well."

A look of concern appeared on her face and she put her hand on my forehead. "You're not coming down with anything are you, Jack?" she asked, "and Amelia's not appeared yet and that's not like her at all. Do you think the two of you have caught something?"

I could not meet her gaze. "I'm OK, Mum," I mumbled. She really didn't need to know what we might have caught: certainly a heavy dose of remorse for me - and for Amie, perhaps something worse...Anger? Rejection? Perhaps even something more permanent: I recalled her whispered words as we clung to each other...

not inside me, Jack - I'm not safe.

I wondered if the sperm I had so carelessly splashed inside her had taken root. How would I explain that?

Mum was still looking at me. "How did your evening with Amie go?" she asked casually.

I glanced at her to see if she suspected something, but her expression was guileless. "It was good," I said. "Nice. We talked for a while at the pub and then walked home together."

"I thought I heard you come in. Did you stay up?"

"A while. I was in bed by midnight." I didn't feel it was useful to tell her who I was in bed with.

She nodded and turned away. "Perhaps you'd take your sister a cup of tea when you've finished eating - it's not like her to -" she broke off as Amie came into the room. "Ah, you're up! How do you feel?"

I dragged my eyes to my sister's face, expecting the worst, but her eyes were bright and clear and she smiled at her mother.

"I'm good, Mum," she said. She leaned forward for a kiss on the cheek, and then moved towards me. Her hair was tied back with a strip of coloured ribbon and she was dressed in a crisp white blouse and a blue skirt, and she was radiant.

"Good morning, Jack." Her eyes slid over my face, a complicit little glance filled with meaning.

"Er - hi, Amie."

"Did you sleep well?" Her lips brushed against my cheek, and I could smell her perfume and the crisp cinnamon and apple fragrance of her hair.

"Not really."

She sat down opposite me and laughed. "Really? I did. You must have a guilty conscience, or something."

"Perhaps. Don't we all?"

"Not me, Jack...I slept like the dead. I really enjoyed last night though - we must do it again soon." She glanced at Mum, who was busy at the sink and she leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I mean

really

soon, Jack. Like today...I have a few ideas to try."

I nodded, relieved that she wasn't angry or hurt. I could tell her later it wasn't a good idea to do it again, that last night had been a few hours of madness because brothers and sisters don't normally fuck each other. It was a fast road to shame and ruin - better that I should try for Amanda Pascoe from the village pub than to let Amie into my bed again.

She was watching me, seeing the doubt on my face. "Well, don't let your enthusiasm run away with you," she murmured.

"Sorry. I - we need to talk."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk Jack," she whispered. "I want to -" she glanced behind me to check Mum couldn't hear. "- to

fuck.

" The word slid off her lips like a drop of honey. "Don't you want to roger me again, Jack? Didn't you enjoy last night?" She was regarding me openly, her eyes bright, and when I didn't answer she shook her head in exasperation. "Having second thoughts, are we?" she whispered. "Well, well, that's a surprise...I thought you'd be ready for a second course by now." She regarded me a moment longer and shook her head again. "You're right, we do need to talk. I'll be in the stables at ten - meet me there." It sounded more like a demand than a request, and we ate our breakfast in silence.

*

It was ten past ten by the time I arrived, and I climbed the wooden stairs to the upper level of the stables with some trepidation. I'd only been back home for a couple of days but I knew Amie well enough to know that she'd settle for nothing less than getting her own way. I could smell her perfume above the normal musty scent of dust and old leather and I knew that she would be waiting for me in the little office tucked away in the corner of the top floor.

She was examining the photographs tacked to the wall and she turned and looked at me when I came in. "You're late," she said flatly.

I shrugged. "I was helping Mum. What can I do for you, Amie?"

"I got the impression that you're having second thoughts about me, Jack. Tell me you're not. Tell me that everything's good."

I looked at her without responding and after a moment she nodded in understanding - a little bob of acknowledgement. She turned back to the photograph she'd been studying without saying anything. It was a family shot taken a dozen years ago of Mum and the kids - I was there, tall and skinny at 18, my hair stood on end like Kramer's. Donna was there too, grinning at the camera with the cheekiness of a 12 year old with her arm around Jim; and Amie was at the front. She would have been six then, as thin as a stick with a serious expression on her face, but somehow the camera had caught the strength of her personality to the extent that she dominated the photograph even though she was the smallest.

Amie touched the image with the tip of one finger. "Do you remember when Dad took this?"

"Not really."

"No, you wouldn't. It would have been just another day to you...but it wasn't to me." She bent down and regarded the image more closely. "Look at it, Jack. Tell me what you can see."

I moved closer, my eyes on the little square of photographic paper. The fragrance of her perfume filled my senses and I was very aware of her proximity. "What do you expect me to see?" I asked.

"Just look."

I regarded the image for a few moments and shrugged. "It's just a snapshot of the family."

"No. It's more than that. Look at me."

I examined the picture again. Amie was stood with her hands by her side and her face to the front, unsmiling. I shrugged again. "I don't see your point - you're just stood there."

"Next to you," she said softly. "I could have been next to the others, or with Mum - but I wasn't. I was always next to you." She waved her hand at the wall. "Look at any of the photographs, Jack. I loved you even then...I wanted to be with you all the time. Don't you remember?"

I nodded slowly, thinking back...little Amie, following me around like a shadow, and she was right about the pictures - in every one, she was next to me: smiling into my face, holding my hands or just pressing close. She had been so quiet that most of the time I didn't know she was there. I nodded. "I thought you were just curious - you know...following me because I was the only one who did stuff around the farm."

"You're wrong then. I followed you because wanted to be near you." She turned suddenly, her face close to mine. "Two years after that picture was taken you went away, and I thought I'd die. Can you imagine that? Eight years old and really not understanding why you'd gone or why you didn't take me." She shook her head. "I didn't even know how long you'd be gone, so for ages I waited every day at the gate, hoping you'd come back - but it took years." Her eyes were on my face - those amazing golden eyes, drawing me into her centre. "Ten years, Jack. That's a lifetime when you're only little."

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty it's not working. I had to go -"

"You're missing the point. I'm not putting you on a guilt trip...I want you to understand what happened last night was more than just a one night stand -"

I laughed. "Really? Are you saying that you've planned to be in my bed ever since you were little?"

"Christ - do you think I was some sort of Lolita?" She shook her head. "I was eight years old, Jack! It was nothing to do with getting you into bed - I was just a kid, but I had a crush on you, big time." She stared at me, pausing to read my expression before pressing on. "Actually it was more than a crush - I waited every day, hoping you'd come back, hoping you'd stay with me. That's a pretty heavy commitment for a kid."

"It was ten years ago, Amie...more than half your life." I reached forward and touched her gently, trying to lessen the impact of what I was going to say. "Things change - people change. You would have got on with your life just as I did."

She didn't reply but instead turned back to the photograph, her hair shining in the diffused, dusty light as she moved. I could see the strip of golden skin between her hair and the collar of her blouse, the same warm flesh that I had pressed my lips to as I fucked her in the long, silent hours of the night. For a few moments there was silence and then she spoke again, almost as if I'd said nothing.

"You're right, Jack - after a while I stopped going down to the gate. Jim and Donna were still here and life did go on - but I never forgot." She reached forward and placed her hand on the photograph, her fingers slim and graceful. "I had pictures like this, and Mum used to tell us how you were getting on - how rich and successful you were. Sometimes - not very often - we'd get a letter from you, or perhaps there would be something in a magazine and we'd all read it, and then the others would go and do something else but I'd think about you."

I could sense the emotion she was feeling from the way she was holding herself - the set of her shoulders and the rigidity of her body. I reached forward to touch her, but stopped just in time - I knew I'd be lost if I did that. For the first time since I'd come home I realised the depth of her vulnerability and how lonely she was. The hard shell that she had developed was nothing more than an act.

"So why are you telling me this?"

She turned back to look at me, her voice passionate. "When you came back I wasn't sure if I still felt the same way, but it didn't me take long to realise that I did. I wanted you then and I want you now, and there's nothing wrong with that. Why don't you want me?"

"I do, Amie. Last night was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"So why aren't you interested?" she asked miserably. She was staring at me with her eyes like pools in her face and I could feel myself being drawn into their golden depths like a swimmer struggling in a rip.

"I am interested, Amie. I'd love to spend the rest of my life doing what we did last night, but it's wrong. We're brother and sister, and we can't -"

"Why not?" She seized my arm to emphasise her words. "Why the hell not, Jack? Who's going to complain?"

"Mum, for one. Can you imagine what it would do to her if she found out what we were doing? She's already lost Donna and Jim. You and I are all she has left."

Amie stared at me, her hand still on my sleeve. I could feel the warmth of her fingers though the material, sizzling hot against my skin. "Mum?" she said. The emphasis she put on the word was almost dismissive. "Oh, you don't have to worry about her, Jack. She's not part of this at all."

"How can you say that? She's our mother - she'd be devastated."

Amie released my arm and stood back. "Sit down." She gestured to the little cot in the corner of the room. "You need to know something."

"I'd rather stand."

"Don't be silly - I'm not going to rape you." She smiled slightly at the thought and then picked up the wooden chair and swung it around, sitting backwards on it in a fluid motion. "Sit."

She'd hinted at some dark secret last night but wouldn't elaborate, but it seemed I was about to hear what it was, and so I sat gingerly on the thin mattress, waiting for her to tell me. She was straddling the chair in front of me and her skirt was bunched to reveal her legs - long and smooth and golden. I remembered how they had gripped me during the night, clasped over my back as I buried myself in her soft centre, and I struggled to take my eyes off them.

"You remember I told you how Donna liked a little nooky?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was more than that, Jack. She was a raging nympho - she'd fuck anything wearing trousers, anywhere and any time - but her favourite was to bring guys back to the house every night and do them in the lounge."

"You told me. You liked to watch."

Amie nodded. "I'd hide in the little alcove just off the main room and watch as she did the deed. Donna was -" she pondered the word for a moment "- energetic."

"How old was she?"

"Twenty one or two, I guess. She was also pretty talented...but then she had a lot of experience." Amie smiled, remembering. "She always insisted that all their gear came off so they were stark naked...she liked to see herself being serviced."

"That would have been good for you, too."

"Oh yes. I'd crouch in my little hideaway and watch as she sucked and fucked every night - sometimes the same guy, sometimes a new one. I never knew that pricks came in such a variety of shapes and sizes." Amie's eyes were distant and I could see her remembering, her mind spinning back to those times. I imagined her crouching behind the curtain, her eyes bright and her fingers buried in her pussy. My eyes flicked down to her thighs, spread open by the back of the chair and her skirt bunched at her crotch - that same pussy now only a couple of feet in front of me, encased in her little silk knickers and oozing moisture from what we had done last night. My cock hardened rapidly at the thought.

"She'd teach them too, Jack - showing them what she liked best and how to make it last. She particularly liked positions where she could see herself being penetrated...she loved to watch her...cunt being stretched open." She turned her eyes to my face, watching to see what effect her words were having on me, the pupils black against the soft gold irises. I could see the sexual energy in her expression, the open invitation to share in her memories, to experience what she had seen as the words dripped like warm honey from her lips.

"I never counted the times I watched," she whispered. "Dozens, probably. Dozens of times, watching my sister fuck - watching their cocks pump into her, watching how she worked them: devoured them. She'd suck them dry and spit them out like orange pips." Amie laughed. "If they were any good, she'd keep them there for a second course, but mostly she'd tell them to leave and after they'd gone she'd lie on the sofa and play with herself. She kept a vibrator hidden behind the books in the cabinet, and she'd lie there and fuck herself with it: plunging it in and sucking the juices off it." Her tongue flicked over her lips leaving them moist and she dropped a hand from the back of the chair onto her lap, the fingers pressing against herself at the memory of what she had seen.

"One night I was watching...the guy had gone and she was pleasuring herself, her eyes closed and the vibrator buried in her snatch, her fingers touching it where it entered her body." Amie laughed softly. "Donna was into juices, y'know? She'd catch them on her fingers and scoop them into her mouth. She loved the taste." Her voice trailed off and there was silence in the little room for a few moments as she remembered. Her fingers were moving at her crutch, pressing and releasing, moving over the bunched fabric of her skirt and she closed her eyes for a moment, savouring the sensation. My cock was rock hard, twitching as my little sister played with herself, imaging Donna as she fucked and sucked on the sofa.

" Well, there she was," Amie continued. "The base of the dildo poking out of her body and the guy's sperm leaking around it. She was scooping it up in her fingers and licking them like a popsicle." Amie's hand vanished under her skirt, her wrist moving as she touched herself and her voice grew husky. "And then I saw a movement behind her, Jack...someone coming out of the shadows. It was Jim - he was in his jocks and a singlet, and his cock was sticking out against the material like a baseball bat and his eyes were on Donna." She let out a breath like a soft sigh. "God knows how long he'd been there, watching her - I was so engrossed that I hadn't seen him."