Crazy Sex Adventures(Erotica)

Betsy let her lips drift lower, like marking a trail so she could find her way back later. My ears and my neck. Down the center of my chest. As her mouth got closer to my dick, it became pretty clear what she had in mind. And this, well, it was way better than a mudpie (better than being sent down a hill on a rocket skateboard, too).

“Ohhh, Bets,” I groaned as my sister’s lips made contact with my cock. It was only a kiss, but already I was aching for more.

My sister slowly pecked her way around my pole. She dabbed her tongue against my shaft.

“That’s nice,” she said, smacking her lips, “My girlfriends said it was gross, but I kinda like it. Very man-y.”

“You should give it a really good taste to be sure,” I said. Again, I didn’t know what part of my brain was sending out these stupid sayings, but the rest of my mind did not approve.

Betsy gave my comment the disdainful look it deserved. But then she gripped my dick and steered it into her mouth.

“Oh yeah, that’s much better,” she said.

I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. I was too enveloped in bliss to care. The warm, wetness of Betsy’s mouth slowly engulfed me. I was no longer capable of doing anything but lying back and making incomprehensible noises.

Betsy slurped up and down my shaft. Her innocent face contorted around my cock into the sexiest expression imaginable. Her mouth gaped open. Her eyes wide and eager.

“Ummm,” she said, as she shluck, shluck, shlucked up and down my dick.

My sister didn’t need instruction this time. It was like she took what she learned with her hand and simply applied it to her mouth. She added little flourishes as she went. Twisted and swirled her tongue in all the right ways. But it was more than her actions. Her enthusiasm, her affection, it took everything over the top.

Natural born cocksucker sounds like an insult, but I’m telling you my sister should have it engraved on her wall. Calligraphed onto sheepskin. She was that fucking amazing on her first go.

Which was a good thing, because I was quickly losing my mind. Words devolved into sensations. All I could do was lie back and drool while my sister did her thing on my dick. She started sliding her fist up and down along with her mouth and I was down to a puddle.

“Warn me before he spits,” Betsy said. Weirdly casual, like telling me to watch out for jalapenos on the nachos.

“Uhhhhh.” I swear that was a whole sentence about what an amazing job my little sister was doing. On how lucky I felt to have this experience for even a second, let alone for longer. A deep and entrancing monologue on the nature of love and its expression through lips and tongue given life over my cock.

“Seriously,” Betsy said, “I want to be prepared when it happens.”

“I… uh…”

Betsy took her free hand and cradled my balls. Right there, it was all over.

“Cuh… Uh… Cumming. Oh Bets! I’m cuh–mming!”

The orgasm that erupted from me was unfamiliar. Unlike any pleasure I’d known before. Not only because of the power of the whole experience, but due to what my baby sister did. She didn’t just open her mouth and accept my spend. She didn’t sit back and allow it to happen like every other woman I’d ever been with.

My beautiful Betsy hollowed her cheeks and sucked the orgasm out of me. Straight up pulled my sperm right out of my penis — like I was a milkshake, and my cock was the straw. The pleasure of it so intense it was almost painful.

Betsy giggled happily as she drank me down. She gave me an experience so intense I died, went to heaven, and got a high-five from St. Peter before my soul dropped back into my body. Meanwhile, my sister cooed and preened. Gulp gulp gulp. Happy little girl.

“That was awesome!” she cried out.

I was barely able to speak. “Yuh. Yeah,” I said. I tried to sit up but fell backward onto the bed. I felt like Cary Elwes after The Machine sucks an entire year out of him in The Princess Bride.

Betsy sat back and rubbed her tummy. “I kind of miss having it on my skin after,” she said, “I don’t suppose you could gin up another load?”

“Oh fuck,” I said, my head lolled on the pillow, “Give me a sec.”

“No that’s OK,” Betsy said. She leaned in and gave me a big cummy kiss on the lips. I didn’t care. Fuck she looked so beautiful in that moment. A little froth of white coating her mouth. “I don’t want to drain my new heat source now that I’ve finally figured it out.”

Betsy tried to slip out of bed, as I’d been bidding her for the past week. But at the last second, I shot my arm out and pulled her back to me.

“Whoa!” she cried out as she tumbled over me. Still, I would not let go. “Oh. OK, I guess I’m staying for a while.”

I squeezed my sister close. Held her as tight as I could. My post-orgasm euphoria slipped away to cold rationality. It didn’t matter. I kept Betsy there for as long as she’d let me. Eventually, distant through sleep, I felt her slip away.

*

I didn’t see my sister at all the next morning. It was Saturday, and she texted me she’d be at the bookstore all day, finding the supplies to start her freshman year at FAU. Yes, we were going to be at the same school. It seemed like so much of a better thing after the week we’d had.

I couldn’t help myself, though. There was no way for me to ask politely, but I had to know. So, I sent her a fire symbol followed by a question mark.

Betsy wrote back: Almost all night!

Well, I guess that answered my question well enough.

For a bit I thought about also going to the bookstore to get the stuff I needed, but I didn’t want Betsy to think I was being clingy. So, instead, I holed up in my bedroom and played games. The house was quiet but comfortable. Again, I wondered if maybe I should stay home for another year. Even though I didn’t hear my family moving around, just knowing they might be there was enough.

When I took a break for lunch, I found my father waiting for me in the kitchen. He gave me a dark stare and my heart sank. Wordless, he gestured for me to take a seat on a stool over by the breakfast bar.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said.

Every organ I had raced for the floor in one sickening, awful drop.

“You do?” I choked out. My voice was so thin, I feared it would crack.

“Sneaking around,” Dad said, “Think you’re so clever.”

Dad wasn’t a big man. He was thin and short with wispy brown hair. Unlike me, Mom, and Betsy, though, he had these icy blue eyes. When he was angry, they burned right through you. And that, along with his hook nose and thin lips, managed to create an appearance that could send a demon back to hell with its tail between its legs.

My father didn’t have to threaten. All he had to do was stare me down and I swear I felt the pee trying to escape down my legs.

“Dad, I can explain.”

“Where. Are. My. Cookies?” Dad said.

“What?” I tried to sit back, but forgot I was on a stool and nearly tumbled over. I grabbed the counter to steady myself.

“Don’t play dumb,” Dad said, “You know I have a secret stash of cookies buried deep in the cabinet. And now they’re gone. My little circles of chocolate happiness.” I swear, he looked like he was about to cry.

“I didn’t touch your cookies, Dad,” I said.

My father eyed me, suspicion shading his face.

“I don’t even like them,” I said, “But there are other people in this house who might also be aware of your secret stash.”

My Dad cocked his head. “Debra,” he said. My mom’s name. I nodded.

He marched out of the kitchen, like I wasn’t even there. I slumped onto the stool. Goddamn but that had been close.

*

“We have to stop,” I told my sister when she got home.

Betsy arched her eyebrow at me. We were sitting on my bed. I was back in my pj bottoms, and I’d stopped my sister from taking off her sweatshirt. I’d spent the whole day obsessing over what had happened. I didn’t want my time with my sister to end, but I’d seen how it could come to a finish and I didn’t want that even more.

“We almost got caught today,” I said.

“Dad got mad over some cookies,” Betsy said, “That’s not ‘almost got caught.'”

“Still though,” I said, “I got the sense of how things could go. What it would be like. For a moment I was sure we were found out and it was awful, Bets.”

“Brandon, I was warm almost all night last night,” Betsy said, “For the first time in, like, ever. And you can’t tell me you didn’t like how it happened, either.”

“It was amazing,” I conceded.

“Wait, really?” Betsy got pulled out of her monologue. Her brown eyes practically glowed. “I mean, I’m not dumb. I know you enjoyed it. But I figured that was, you know, normal. I’ve only ever done it that one time.”

“It was the best I’ve ever had,” I said, “Not even close.”

“Better than Mel?” Betsy said. She looked like she was about to accept the Nobel Prize (which, to be fair, if they gave one for blowjobs, she’d probably already have five of them stacked up in her dresser drawer). “You said she was all sex all the time. Seriously?”Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

“It’s more than the physical-ness of it,” I said, “It’s the connection we share. You know? So yeah, it was better than Mel or Julie or Kim.”

“Wait, you got a bj from Kim Sanders?”

“It was after prom and she was drunk,” I said, shrugging. It was not my proudest moment, being honest.

Betsy eyed me for a moment. Like she was thinking everything through. Seriously, I’d never seen a girl get so happy about sucking someone off. But my sister had different standards, I suppose.

“So why should we stop?” Betsy said, “I’ve been getting warm and you’re getting, well, something pretty great too. It’s not like it’s wrong.”

I gave my sister a questioning look. Actually, I was pretty sure that what we were doing was the definition of ‘wrong.’ It says so in the bible and everything. Not to mention local bylaws.

Look, did I want our time together to stop? If I truly interrogated myself the answer would be ‘no.’ But I was scared by what had happened and I think I was hoping that Betsy might be able to convince me that we could continue. That she’d rationalize our wrongdoing in some way and I could pretend to be persuaded. I know that’s selfish, but it’s where I was.

“We’re just helping each other out,” Betsy said with a shrug, “Siblings do that all the time.”

“I doubt our parents would feel the same way,” I said. Or our friends. Or the local constabulary. Or God.

“If it was romantic then sure, it would be an issue,” Betsy explained to me, patiently, like talking to a child. “Do you love me?”