Fucking with a DEMON!

Fucking with a DEMON!

一

The coronavirus is everywhere. The non-stop media coverage, the hysteria, like it could be Armageddon.

The end of days, end of the world. Coronapocalypse!

And all I can think is that I'm too young to die! I can't die, at least not yet, I don't want to die without ever having sex!

That's right. I'm a virgin.

Not that I don't want it, or that I'm a Tim Tebow religious type of douchebag, or that I haven't tried, but, sadly, I've yet to do - "IT."

I'm a virgin, a fucking incel.

And with the virus wreaking havoc, maybe I won't even have the chance!

At 18, too, yeah, it's embarrassing. There's no one I can confide in, either. I can't tell any of my friends because they'd totally rake me over the coals. I don't even wanna think of how savagely they'd roast me if they knew...

My friends are assholes, as would be expected of them, being jocks, guys on the college football team, D-1. My teammates, bros are all banging cheerleaders, but, for me, as the kicker, even though I won 4 games last season with my foot, and kicked us into a national ranking, and televised bowl game, it's always the quarterback, receivers, linebackers getting the girly action.

With the ladies, like in football, I'm mostly on the sidelines watching. Sitting on the bench.

While I've had some success on the field, with the females, my moment of glory has yet to arrive. And now, with the Four Horsemen riding in, with shit about to go all Walking Dead, I might die in incel ignominy.

Not that I never touched a girl, though. I've made out a few times. Swapped spit and got my hands up a few shirts.

Not that long-ago I finger-banged a fire-hot, petite, high-cheek boned, chocolate eyed, super-sexy Filipina chick from my college algebra class.

Driving her home from the library, we took a naughty detour to the far end of the campus and climbed into the comfy leather backseat of my Suburban.

Behind the privacy of darkly tinted windows, we melted into the butterscotch colored interior and were instantly locking lips, and next thing I knew, I had her yoga pants down, and my camo shorts fell too, my rock-hard dick popping out, my erect cock drooling pre-cum as her small brown hand was lightly stroking and tickling my wet mushroom tip.

I'd hooked my hands to the waistband of her underwear, was ready to peel off her tiger-print panties and stab into her sweet pussy's sugar walls, but then her phone rang, and I had to rush her home.

Being a "good" Catholic girl, she felt guilty about it and objurgated me. Wouldn't go out with me again, saying that I'm possessed by the devil, which, for real, maybe is true...

You see, something's been in me, overtaking me, ever since me and my folks moved into the mansion my parents bought at a hefty discount, because of it being allegedly haunted...

Some background perhaps is in order...

The mansion, a massive structure, built from beige quartzite stone, was designed to look like a castle and has a conical front-facing turret, three chimneys, and a Roman-style spouting fountain in the front-facing roundabout.

Inside the mansion is all marble flooring, and intricate, lush wood paneling walling, and super-high, vaulted ceilings, floor to ceiling windows in nearly every room.

Built on massive stone foundations, at the peak of a mountain, it eats up a sizable chunk of sky, and towers mightily, dwarfing the glittering glass spiral towers, square clumps of rowhouses, McMansions and suburban sprawl of the city below.

The massive, medieval style manor had been abandoned for years. The owner, who'd built it, was a CEO of a pizza franchise, and had embezzled a ton of cash from his company.

He'd also been having an affair with his oldest daughter, a busty college girl, a goth, Suicide Girl cam-chick, an online model, who'd attended my college, actually.

Once the CEO was facing legal charges, and was ousted from his company, he and his daughter, ironically, committed suicide together, swallowing a big bottle of Oxycontin; the two taboo lovers found nude and motionless together in the master bedroom, by his wife, the girl's mother.

(Unsurprisingly, the Suicide Girl's social media, tribute pages skyrocketed in popularity afterwards, and she'd become a viral sensation. And yes, I did view and jerk off to her pics...)

In addition, it came to light that the grounds the mansion was built on used to house gallows, where a series of witches were hung back in colonial times...

The house, and grounds, with their infamy, was understandably difficult to sell, and sat empty for nearly a decade, until my father, upon having success of his own in the corporate world, decided to buy and renovate it.

Not that I believe much in ghosts, but there's a strange energy in the house and its multi-acre grounds. Before it was renovated, it'd been a morbid tourist attraction, and in the woods nearby, there'd been a series of suicides. The fucking place like our city's answer to the forest by Mount Fuji...

After buying the property, we tore out the spot where the old master bedroom was, remodeled it and transformed it into an outdoor garden featuring a bevy of exotic flowers and plants. Despite the effort, though, it still has this eerie vibe to it, that garden, and even in the summer, even when it's boiling hot outside, the garden always has a prickly cold touch to it...

And the house, too, has its energy and movements. There're strange sounds in the house, knocks and footsteps, lights flickering, shutting on and off without reason.

I swear I saw the girl, the Suicide Girl, several times at night. She appeared in hazy mist, an ambrosial waft swirling in the evening air, as the maiden, walking nude, aimlessly, lapped around the winding hallways, with her lips pursed, black rose tattoos carved into her washboard midriff, blood red dragon tats running up her thighs; her perky bell-shaped tits glowing like orbs; silvery glints bouncing in sparks from her facial piercings; her phantom figure so translucent that her pallid skin was whiter than smoke...

The ghostly vision had both aroused and repelled me... Terrifyingly hot, she was a GILF. Ghost I'd Like to Fuck! Being a horny 18 y/o virgin, especially facing the end of days, the plague and that, I'd have wrecked that witchy spirit ass, fucked the shit out of that supernatural pussy...

I told my father, not about fucking the ghost, but seeing it, and Pops, ever the skeptic, refused to believe it, refused to bow to superstition, and was apathetic anyway, him being basically an absentee landlord, his job having him gone on business most of the year.

Mother was often traveling, too, for pleasure, and waved my visions off with a swatting gesture, not wanting to pay any attention to such "hogwash."

(Much like she'd said of the coronavirus at its outset, that it was a hoax, before later labeling it a "gift" from God to thin out the population...)

But, similar to the virus showing its teeth, the house has its etiology as well; there's definitely something to it, in its genesis, its effect, because everyone, my mom, dad, me and sister, has changed since moving in...

My father has gotten older, grayer, aging at a rapid rate, and he's grown colder, more distant, often staring off into the distance when not on his tablet, dealing with business-related matters, stock price charts or pie graphs.

Mother has gotten more depressed, and got FAR larger, like Lizzo size, eating like a farm animal and drinking like a fish, damn near a bottle of pricey red wine per day.

(I've begun to suspect my father of having an affair; his interest in my cow of a mother understandably waning, and I've noticed him leering more and more at my smoking hot sister...)

For me, I've become more focused on football and am kicking the fuck out of the pigskin, have never kicked better, am kicking like a Kung Fu master, and after only my freshman campaign, there's been talk of NFL scouts looking at me, that I could one day be a late-round draft pick.

But despite my promising career prospects, when I'm not thinking football, my thoughts have gotten sinister, wildly more sexual. Particularly towards my sister...

My sister, oh, my sister. The debutante, herself involved in college sports, gymnastics, as well as dance, ballet, which explains her flawless hourglass form, her goddess body of perfect, chiseled proportions.

Not that I see her much, though, because, until recently, she's rarely been home, and has grown up in boarding schools, specialized talent summer camps. But when I have seen her, ever since I recall, she's been a stuck-up bitch, a fucking cunt, looking down on me, sticking up her nose, acting like her perfectly spherical, wiggly round ass doesn't fucking stink.

The bitch.

I've always wanted to fuck her, sure, but after moving into the house, my thoughts have turned to hate-fucking her, surprise fucking her, creeping up behind her, hard dick poking out of my pants, my dick like a spear, me pinning her to a wall, taking her from behind, ninja-fucking the bitch, putting the cunt in a full nelson and twisting her like a pretzel as I ream balls-deep into her stink monkey...

I'd never had such explicit thoughts, prismatic hate-fuck visions, until moving into the house, and when the thoughts fog in, a different voice speaks to me, a voice with an angrier, harsher timbre. It's a buzzsaw of a voice, giving me ideas I don't want to have, but that I can't gray out; the visions of violently hate-fucking my cunt of a sister, the visions consuming me and stiffening my cock, forcing me to masturbate to soften the edge.

(Here and there, at a demon's prodding, I've been sneaking into her room, stealing and sniffing at her panties, and running them over my dick, using them to whack off, while staring and sneering at her vanity pictures adorning the walls. There I'll stand, in her room, drinking in the scent of bitch, that bitch scent, scent of nail polish, beauty products and young fresh cunt floating in the room's air, and I'll jerk off, imagine primate-fucking my sister raw...)

My sister... the bombshell blond, she's changed too. Become more withdrawn. When home, she's started dressing in more revealing attire- hotter hot pants, fishnet stockings and plunging décolletage half-shirts and in styles darkly sexy, slightly more "goth" as opposed to her prior, basic bitch preppy sorority girl chic, and she's gotten into listening to synthpop, Mr. Kitty and The Birthday Massacre, and vintage metal, early AC/DC, Metallica and Slayer instead of much of the Justin Bieber shit she'd been into previously.

She'll wear a lot of rock band shirts, too, and paints her nails opal shades, and cakes on loads of smudgy black lipstick. heavy rouge on her rosy cheeks. I've noticed that she'll sneak out of the house a lot too, slip into this red Bugatti Veyron that revs, zooms and roars off into the black of night.

I can only imagine what she's been doing. Probably something involving dick. Sex. Partying. Thinking of her out banging dudes only makes me want to fuck her more...

二

As for my sex life, there's not much to discuss, after the Catholic girl, that rough experience; after that, I've not dated much, aside from a brief encounter with a drunk chick at a frat party; the last party I went to before the virus outbreak...

This crazy chick, a short, olive skin, early 20 something honey with hefty melon-tits, damn near DD-cups, and shoulder length purple hair, and hot pants cut so high they exposed the edge of her white cotton panties; this nutty chick, like a ninja, stealthily snuck up behind me, pulled and twirled me around by the shirt collar, and chastised me, her voice slurry, screaming, "Chad, whurh've you FUCKING been!?"

To that my eyes bulged, and I replied that I "wasn't Chad."

"You're fucking Chad, you asshole!" she shouted. "STOP lying!" she implored, grappling me, taking two fistfuls of my cinnamon colored polo shirt into her claws and shoving me backwards, into an open closet.

After we entered, and I nearly stumbled over a bucket and some cleaning supplies, she propped me up against the wall, and a couple bros, walking by and laughing at my predicament, pointed at me, and one of them stuck out and wagged his tongue and slammed shut the door to the closet.

It was dark, but enough light trickled in from the door's rectangle edges that I could make out the crazy chick dropping to her knees.

The thumping bassline from "HUMBLE" came on, and I heard the dance floor erupt in howls; the rhythms of the bass and hard beat vibrating through me as the purple chick then unbuckled my pants, unbuttoned the waistband, unzipped the fly, twisted my pants down to my feet. My boxers followed the same trajectory, layering the pile, becoming ankle bracelets.

The purple hair chick affixed her hands to my bare, rippling thighs, bowed her head forward and began aggressively tonguing my balls, licking and then lightly sucking on them.

The sensation was amazing. Next thing I knew, between slurps, she muttered, "Chad, you piece of shit," and then gulped my now throbbing hot and heavy prick directly into her hot/cold mouth, bobbing her head back and forth on it, vacuuming and deep-throating it.

Her lips were puffy, Angelina Jolie big, and the sensation of them gliding on my cock was incredible. It was the first time I'd had a blowjob. Being introduced to oral by a pro like this was quite the welcome.

She quickened, sucking faster and harder, almost too hard, and a mixture of pleasure and pain caused me to squirm, wince and tap her on the head, tapping out like my cock was in an MMA submission hold.

Taking the cue, she eased up, let my dick out of her mouth, held it in her hands and began jerking it, with both hands, like she was milking a cow, and she stuck out her tongue, shook her head from side to side, wagging and twirling her tongue wildly, licking at my glans, driving me wild, making my toes curl and clench. Then she inhaled the entirety of my cock once again, drinking it in, splendidly, the slut's playful tongue, buttery lips and swirling saliva enveloping me, from my dick to the length of my spine, in decadent bliss, and I succumbed.

I grasped her temples tightly and blasted a money shot deep into her throat.

Not skipping a beat, or drop of my load, she swallowed enthusiastically. Every last gooey fucking bit.

She continued sucking after I'd finished, for another 20 seconds or so, and then unloosed my semi-hard dick, clutched it and polished off the tip, sponging up any trace of the post-cum.

A true cum slut!

Then she wiped her mouth with her right forearm, stood up, poked me in the chest, playfully, and said, "Look, dude, I know you're not Chad. He's my boyfriend. I spotted him getting a blowjob from some pigtailed Harley Quinn wannabe-bitch. This was revenge. Don't take it personally."

I was happy to help, and, still out of breath, panting, from the amazing oral work she'd done, I muttered, "Uh, okay, no problem. Happy to help anytime..."

"If you see Chad, don't tell him, though. Or I WILL NEVER talk to you again!" she warned me, poking my chest again, this time much harder.

Finding her way out of the closet, she opened the door and wafts of vape smoke and grayish light from the party poured in and Purple Hair blew a kiss sarcastically at me and waved goodbye...

三

Other than that, um, unique experience, though, I've been striking out with the ladies. No chicks wanting to bang the kicker.

I've given Tinder a whirl but am getting nowhere fast, so I've been jerking off like mad, usually to the thought of hate-fucking my sister or flashing back to the icy hot BJ I got that night, in that dark closet, the party-house shaking, my bones rattling to the bump of the bass as the random crazy slut sucked me into another dimension.

Oh fuck, the tenderness of her hair, its fluffy softness, as I crawled my fingers through her silky purple curls, her magical tongue flittering and flicking...

I get hard practically anytime I think of that crazy purple chick... Her brain like a scholar...

Occasionally I'll imagine that mouth being my sister's, thinking of the curvature of my sister's full lips, their geometrical shape and how they'd glide over my dick, engulf it. My sexy sister's perfectly symmetrical face, drinking in my thick, stiff cock.

I'll think of me hiding in the pantry, jumping out and ambushing her in the kitchen; me grabbing a clump of her hair, jumping up on the counter and mouth-fucking her, her flashbulb eyes darting around, on the look out for our parents, worried they might catch us...

That's a favorite fantasy of mine, taking her mouth. Of course I've dreamed of her golden pussy too, but never thought I'd get into it.

However, with the apocalypse arriving, anything could happen...

I've been back home for the last week because college closed due to the virus spreading in my area, and there isn't much going on other than isolated small group, distanced football practice.

Everywhere classes, events, parties are canceled; the city's a ghost town, hardly any traffic at night when I drive back to the house from practice.

Despite the creepiness of being in a cursed dwelling during a plague outbreak, the house is fucking colossally big and luxurious, which makes it a pretty beast spot for a quarantine.

And it's gotten even nicer since a few days ago, when my older sister came home, her school as well being canceled.

My sister, Sandy, the cunt with the sweet ass, recently celebrated her 21st birthday alone in her sorority house bedroom before it got closed, posting pissed off pics about it on her Instagram, fishing for sympathy... Boo-fucking-hoo, bitch...

Although, like I said, I generally detest her, truth is that I don't know her too well; we'd never been close growing up, because of my parents shipping her off to a series of elite boarding schools since kindergarten.

But I have certainly spent enough time with her for me to label her a snobby bitch. That I can confirm beyond a doubt.

I'd always resented her. How she'd been preened. How she walked in elongated steps and strides.

Though, as I experienced puberty, the way I viewed her, my perspective, my gaze, shifted drastically into a different manifestation of hate...

I started to notice how hot she is. How fine and tight her body is, its curves, peaks and shapes.

Sandy's basically perfect-looking. Flawless.

She's tall, with creamy, ivory white skin. And she's thin, but athletic. Nothing could be prettier than her face, especially the arches and contours of her heavenly high cheekbones. Fuck, she has a beautiful, round face and these huge sparkly bright blue eyes. Her facial structure could be studied by plastic surgeons, beauticians. Her hair is most radiant, too, lush and curly platinum blond medium length, styled immaculately with sexy face framing fringe.

Her shapely legs go on for miles and her figure is curvy yet firm, with her tight, toned tummy and perfectly perky C-cup sized teardrop tits. From behind as well she's aesthetically pleasing, as sports, dance, and exercise have bestowed upon her a gloriously voluptuous, well-rounded rear that stands magnificently high and is terrifically taut.

Something about her look reminds me of Marilyn Monroe. My sister is slightly taller and thinner, but there is, for sure, an uncanny resemblance...

Simply put, my sister is a FOX. A fucking harridan in training, a superbitch, but a fox.

Ever since I began to beat off, she's prominently featured in my fantasies. Fantasies that've only intensified...

Besides my recent mental visions of suck-offs, I've forever been having a recurring romp, in my mind, of me and my sister in the shower, me standing behind her, plowing into her forbidden pussy, my pelvis clapping at her sculpted, athletic ass, me cupping her bulging tits, our wet bodies in motion, us under the rain shower, slapping skin...

Thinking about fucking her so much makes me feel a wash of adrenaline when in her presence. And now I'm going to be in her presence far more, with the epidemic.

But hey, maybe the fucking black death, if we are about to die, and we are alone together, maybe something... something could happen...

Despite my sister's being a total raging bitch, or maybe because of it, she's preparing to be a hot shot corporate lawyer. And I can see it too. Shit, I can see her being a politician, as evil as she is. I have faith in her heart of darkness. I mean, she is smart as a whip, has razor sharp wits, and is a valedictorian in addition to a beauty queen.

She could be the first female president, MILF status, impeached over her getting a sneaky muff munching in the Oval Office by a Chris Hemsworth looking young intern. I can see it...

四

Since Sandy's been home, however, she's seemed to mellow out, somewhat, with the epidemic situation and non-stop shitty news, people in hazmat suits, and dire warnings of death and plague. The situation grim enough for even her frozen cunt to thaw...

Just the other day, our nonchalant parents decided to fly private, jet off for a ski trip at an exclusive resort, and since they've been gone, my sister and me have started to get acquainted, talk more, and it's not been long before she noticed that I've been sneaking peaks down her shirt, checking out her ass. At first, she was pretty lax about it, smirking at me coyly when I did so.

Finally, though, this morning, she called me out on it.

It happened when we were in the kitchen, a tangerine sun glowing through the French windows, illuminating her flawless figure as she leaned over the fruit bowl while sifting through a stack of oranges, her eyes squinting and nose crinkling as she carefully dug through the pile, inspecting and sorting, in search of the ripest piece...

Her hair was in a chignon, and she wore a solid black, low-cut AC/DC logo T-shirt dress, its plunging neckline so revealing that her succulent tits hung directly in my line of vision, swinging freely, their luscious glory in full display.

Being a horny bastard, young, dumb and full of cum, I couldn't take my eyes away and stared, like a deer in headlights, at her dangling, jiggling tits; her tits so bouncy and alive, such hypnotic pendulums.

My sister peered up from the fruit bowl, her gorgeous eyes beaming, laser-like, into mine, and her nostrils flared, and she blushed strawberry red and burst into laughter.

"YOU are such a PERV!!!" she exclaimed, laughing boisterously, snatched an orange and rushed off as if escaping a burning building, scampering off into the dining room, giggling and vanishing into the hallway.

I was ashamed that she'd caught me and remembered an episode of Seinfeld I'd seen as a kid, where Jerry had spoken of cleavage being something you look at only for a split second, then avert your gaze from, like the sun. I wished I'd heeded the sage-like advice.

How would I face my sister, after she busted me THAT royally?

My demons soothed me, though. Told me not to worry, that I should have taken a cell phone picture. But I couldn't help trembling, panicking and feeling like a total peeping tom, sex offender asshole.

I grabbed a stockpile of food from the fridge, enough to last me the day, and ran up to my room, up the spiral staircase, and locked my door and hunkered down. I knew I'd have to see her eventually, but at least maybe I could avoid her for the rest of the day...

五

It's about 10 p.m. at night, and I'm in my blue and white Dallas Cowboys pajamas, leaning back into my black leather gaming swivel seat, playing LOL on my PC, when I hear a musical knock on the door.

I get up, hoping it was my parents, home early, hoping it was the cleaners, hoping it was the police, an armed robber, anyone other than...

No such luck. It's my sister, and she's staring at me, accusingly, as I pull open the chestnut brown arched wooden door.

Dammit, she's still wearing the same low-cut T-shirt dress, looking ripe as fuck!

Her hair's down, which I prefer on her, I gotta say; her flocculent golden locks brushed and parted to the right.

She's painted on black lipstick and dabbed on heavy helpings of mascara and caramel eye shadow. Fuck she looks hot! Truly ravishing in the amber lighting of the hallway that's highlighting and tracing her curvaceous form...

"Hey, perv..." she blurts out, snickering and then curls her upper lip, shakes her head arrogantly. I can smell peppermint on her breath.

She then arches her eyebrows, steeples her hands and giggles seductively.

"Shh! Don't be so loud! Someone might hear you!" I chide her, in a hushed voice.

"No one's here! The parents are still in Colorado, dumbass! I was going to sneak over to my friend's, but her parents are in full doomsday mode, won't let anyone over, like they think it's about to be The Purge or 28 Days Later, and I have nothing to do, and I'm sick of looking at my phone, so I thought I'd come see what my pervy bro is doing..."

I notice her eyes being sorta bloodshot as she relaxes into a resting bitch face and folds her arms over her stomach, which kinda pushes up, accentuates her delicious boobs.

"I'm gaming." I tell her, doing my best to keep my eyes to hers and not let them wander downwards again.

"Gaming?"

Her head tilts to the side, and she raises an eyebrow.

"Playing games online."

"Cell phone games?"

"No, LOL."

"LOL?"

"League of..."

"Uh, that's lame," she cuts in, derisively, totally interrupting me.

"You should be out chasing girls. It's the fucking apocalypse, and here you are playing video games. You're on the football team, too! Like, who on the football team is sitting on his computer, during the plague, playing video games?" she asks, rhetorically, or rather affirms, her expression of disappointment causing her upper lip to curl up even further, like a ski slope.

"I'm the kicker. No one cares about me until the game is on the line. Then I'm the most important guy in the world..."

"You're lame and pathetic," she bluntly proclaims, folding her arms higher up over her ample chest, tossing her head back and rolling her eyes.

Back into bitch mode, I gather; my sister being a total cunt again. The demon thirst, the primal urge to hate-fuck her intensifies, seething inside me, eating into my better intentions.

She continues her berating, and the pitch of her voice swells into a shrewish falsetto.

"Why don't you play soccer? Soccer guys are hot."

Since she's in a chatty, inquisitive mood, I figure two could play at that game, and I decide to hit the cunt with the Socratic Method.

"Didn't you play soccer in high school?" I ask, in a calm, Sam Harris-ish monotone.

"I did, yeah," she replies, her tone softening and stance slacking, her shoulders slouching.

"Is that why you're hot?" I blurt out, realizing that for the first time, I'd called my sister "hot" to her face.

"So you think I'm hot? Well, I know you must. That's why you were looking down my shirt!!" she retorts, accusingly, the portals of her eyes bulging as if they were dots under exclamation points.

She snickers, and my face blushes scarlet red; now I'm on guard again, and I stammer, "I, yes, I, couldn't look away. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You're juss a guy."

I notice her voice is slurry.

"You been drinking, Sandy?" I ask, angle my head and shoot her a suspicious glance.

"No. But I might have smoked weed. Do you wanna drink with me?" she asks and then smiles, and I marvel at how pretty her smile is and how impeccably aligned and marshmallow white her teeth are.

Back to nice Sandy. Fuck, maybe she's bipolar.

Whatever the case, it's hard to refuse drinks with such a beautiful woman. It doesn't matter, either, because of the plague, that woman being my sister.

"Sure. And we can watch something on Netflix too. I was about to watch Contagion."

"Uh, no, we can watch the news for that. How about something uplifting?"

"Amityville."

"You asshole... Okay..."

"Alright."

"Hey, you're not gonna kidnap and violate me are you, though? You perv..." asks my sister, crossing her arms tighter, more defensively, hiding her boobs and giving me a snooty stare.

Not that I'd really abduct or violate anyone, especially not my sister, but the thought of being on top of her, throttle-fucking her gives me a euphoric rush and a tingling in my nether region.

I try as best I can to banish the idea from my mind...

"No, I promise, no violating or abuse of any kind!"

"No peeking at my boobs?"

"No peeking at your boobs..." I promise and hold up my right hand like we're in a courtroom.

Mentally, though, I want to inquire: "But what about your crotch or ass?" but I restrain my base, carnal instincts, my demons, and steel myself with a calming mantra, the words a psychic attempt, a fire extinguisher to the flame of my depravity, the mantra being: "Dude, she's your sister. Dude, she's your sister... Dude..."

六

Sandy grins so widely that these cute dimples in her cheeks show themselves, and then she giggles, and dashes off down the infinite hallway.

I leave my door open, and she returns a few minutes later with a bottle of Jack under her arm, two crystal glasses in her hands, and a vape pen chockfull of sticky skunk weed dangling from her lips.

She passes the cups and bottle to me, kicks off her spooky bunny slippers. Sits down and splays out on my bed, and lifts away and then retouches the vape pen to her lips; the apparatus glows neon blue.

Whooooooooowwww... She lets out a funnel cloud of smoke. And I pour the two Shanghai Crystal rounded liquor glasses half full of Jack, the potion turning the dragon etchings on the cups' sides into the color of honey.

She scoots to the far side of my bed, adjacent to the off-white wall, and with a svelte, manicured hand, pats beside her, on the mattress, signaling me to come hither. It dawns on me that she's the first girl ever in my bed.

"Am I the first girl who's been in this bed?" she asks me, as if a psychic, and her bloodshot eyes narrow.

As she lies back, the bottom hem of her dress rises slightly, unveiling a most juicy thigh...

"No, I think the cleaning lady was in my bed..." I reply, not thinking that one through.

"You fucked the Guatemalan cleaning lady? Wow, she is sexy, especially for a 50-year-old. I mean, she could be Jennifer Lopez in the right lighting..."

"No, I didn't fuck the Jennifer Lopez cleaning lady. But I want to, now that you mention it," I say, my voice skipping up an octave as I climb into bed, perch next to my sexy sister, and hand her a dragon glass. I can smell her sandalwood bodywash or maybe shampoo. It's intoxicating. Mesmerizing.

She swings the vape pen in my direction.

"No, I can't. Team tests us randomly."

"Can't you get fake piss?"

"They check our hair, blood too."

"So how do you get away with taking steroids?" my sister inquires, sips her Jack and looks me over.

"I don't take steroids, or HGH, or any of that shit."

I flex a bicep at my sister, like a WWE wrestler, and Sandy ogles it, taps the crest of the bulging muscle with her silky fingers.

Whoa, fuck, her touch is magical, surreal, sends electric shivers up my spine.

"You look good," she says, demurely, her crossed, luscious legs pointing towards me as she inspects my physique.

And I guess I do look good, being a Division 1, collegiate athlete. At 5'11, I'm only a few hairs taller than her, but I'm jacked; my legs massive, like tree trunks, from the millions of squats and leg exercises I do, and my upper body is ripped too. I'm fucking barrel chested and cut from lifting weights, running, working out with our beast linebackers, running backs; our hysterical, wild-eyed, neck vein popped out coaches all screaming like mad dogs in our faces...

A few seconds of uncomfortable silence ensue. My demons want me to touch her thigh, thinking it was only fair to retaliate, her stroking my bicep and that, but instead the nerd in me instinctively flips on the wall-mounted 50-inch LCD flatscreen facing my bed, sorts through the menu and selects the first "Amityville." The original- not the bullshit remake.

"Hey, I think I saw this not that long ago. What about 'Amityville 2'?" asks my sister, who lets loose my arm and sits back into the comfort of the big pile purple memory foam pillows lining the headboard. Silver vape smoke billows, like chimney chutes, from her nostrils... Damn, she has such a cute, narrow nose...

"I've not seen that one in a while." I reply, suddenly realizing a plot line in the film that might make watching it with my sister, well, sort of weird...

"I've never seen it. Let's watch it," she commands nodding towards the TV.

One doesn't say no to a chick that hot. Women really do have a certain power over us men. Nothing can make a man crumble and lower the IQ like a smoking hot girl.

Her wishes, my commands...

I select the movie, hit play, and we chill, watch the movie in silence, sipping Jack, her puffing hard on the vape...

I think I might be getting a contact high from the chalky clouds she's blowing. It dawns on me that she's a total party chick yet still manages to crush her grades, perfectly maintaining the outward appearance of an angel, sparkly sorority chick, while inside she has her own demons that like to come out and play...

Beautiful women can do anything, I posit. Looking like that, she could probably rob a bank, wink and smile at an all-male jury and judge and be free the next day...

I think I'm catching a buzz indeed from the plumes of skunk smoke that waft around the room, and soon the room's full of fog, San Francisco in August levels.

And I catch a different sort of contact high, when she snuggles up next to me, her velvety locks toggling and tickling at the nape of my neck.

Whoa, my skin blanches; having a chick this hot all up on me is elevating my senses- and my cock.

I spring an erection, but, fortunately, because of my baggy pajamas, she doesn't seem to notice.

When the brother/sister sex scene comes on, we giggle awkwardly, and she pulls away, sits back into the other side of the bed. Maybe she worries I'm getting ideas and really would try to violate her.

She nor I make no mention of the scene- or me assaulting her- or say a fucking word until...

The movie finishes.

"That was interesting..." she says, as the credits rolled. She's clearly quite tipsy, as am I.

"It sure was." I reply, not sure what else to say.

"I like how she was comfortable with him, modeling in her underwear, like, before he went psycho... I wonder if there are demons or ghosts in this house... With what happened here, you know?" she says, her expression turning solemn as she pans her pretty head around the room.

Gooseflesh runs up my arms. My stomach trembles, and my demons, playing Poker with Tarot cards, slip a devious thought into my head.

"I think I know a way we can find out." I assert, giving her an authoritative glare, my eyes widening...

"How's that?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"This," I grab my phone, flip to a Ouija board app.

"What the fuck?" she shouts, staring down at the glowing phone I'm cradling.

"Here, it's easy, with your finger, you swipe the pointer over the board, speak to it, and it moves if there's a ghost around..." I tell her, swiping around the pointer with my index finger to the screen.

"We can make it two players, like this," I say, and I make the pointer bigger, so we both can control it.

I place the phone on the bed, in between us. Then I look at her and ask, "You wanna try?"

She peers down at the phone, then looks back up at me, apprehension clearly visible in her hooded eyes.

"Is that for real?" she cautiously inquires, crossing her legs, and glances down at the phone again, her eyebrows raising, forehead furrowing.

"Not sure. I downloaded it before but have been waiting for a chance to use it. Let's give it a try."

"Okay," she whispers and bobs her head, staring warily at the app.

I spring up and slide off the bed, and I amble across the room and kill the lights to enhance the mood for the séance; the only light in the room now the pale blue phosphorescence rising like vapor from the phone's screen. I slowly saunter back over to the bed, scoop back up my phone, climb in and sit parallel to her.

Holding the phone in my left hand, I proffer it towards her.

We sit facing each other, cross-legged, and each touch an index finger onto the screen.

Nothing happens.

The pointer remains lame over the board, doing fuck all.

We glance up at each other, and she sighs, shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

"Give it a se..." I'm saying, when the screen springs to life.

The pointer on the screen begins moving, on its own, tugging energy at our fingers, darting wildly all over the letters of the Ouija board.

"Oh my god! Are you doing that? I'm not doing that!" my sister cries, her voice straining, body quivering. A teardrop trickles from her left eye, slides down her rosy cheek.

"No, I'm not..." I shoot back, my body now quivering as well. Honestly, I'd never used the app and had thought it was a gag.

"Who is here? Who is this?" I call out, to whatever supernatural being was suddenly in control.

The pointer on the screen moves purposely over the letters and spells out:

U

2

S

H

O

U

L

D

F

U

C

K

!

Then it stops.

My sister and I look up at the same time. Our eyes meet. There's an expression of shock, rage on her face.

"You..." she grunts, "errrrrmmm" she hisses, her voice garbles, and her eyes roll back into her head, shift to white.

Spittle runs down her lips. Her body begins shaking and she collapses into a heap on the bed, convulsing violently.

Fuck! I think she's having a seizure. I grab the phone, swipe to the call screen, and I'm about to call an ambulance, unsure exactly how I explain to the cops how she got into this state, like, "Well, we were on the Ouija board app and then..."

But then her eyes shift back to blue, but are somewhat slanted, like epicanthic, and far more bloodshot, almost solid scarlet, which give her an evil, sinister appearance.

Fuck, maybe she has the coronavirus, I wonder...

She stops shaking, sits up, cuts a murky figure through the swirling clouds of vape smoke, and she smiles, her visage particularly devious.

The overhead ceiling lights flick back on, without either of us hitting the wall switch, and the lights are far brighter, more radiant than before, enveloping us in gold.

A puff of silver mist swirls from my sister's mouth as she speaks in a voice that sounds different; a syrupy, husky, slightly more baritone register...

"Hey there, bro..." she croons, her eyelashes fluttering, her face contorting into a mischievous smirk.

"Hey, are you oh..." I start blabbering, leaning away, ready to run for some holy water, garlic- or my nunchucks.

"Haha!!!! Gotcha!!!" she taunts, cutting me off, pointing and guffawing, slapping her knee.

"You!!!! Ah!!!! I was totally convinced you were possessed by the devil, or had the fucking coronavirus..." I shout at her, and grunt loudly, slap down my phone into the silver silk covers and sheets tucked over my bed. She has acting chops, this chick...

"What makes you think I'm not possessed? Maybe I'm a coronavirus demon bitch... A fucking bitch from hell..."

"At this point, it would not surprise me."

Then her tone shifts to one of gravity.

"Hey, be honest. You like me, don't you? As more than a sister?"

Her eyes slant even further shut, into practically a straight line, and she paints a hand over my pecs, squeezes my left nipple playfully, giving me static shock.

"Yo, I.. don't... " I clumsily susurrate, my body frozen in place, sinking into the mattress like I weigh 1000 pounds.

"Haha! You perv! I'm joking! I know you do. You would fuck me, wouldn't you?" she smiles devilishly, her narrow eyes cutting deeply into mine.

Dammit, am I imagining this? Maybe I have the coronavirus, or am simply crazy drunk and have a contact buzz...

"I... Uh..." I stutter, unable to reply. My arms begin to tremble with guilt... And lust!

"Want me to give you a mercy fuck? Be a naughty big sister to my cute little loser brother? Seriously, it's cool. The parents are gone. I can teach you. I can teach you how to fuck. I've been with 8 guys, or maybe 9, like, the last one didn't count, he put it in me and came after two strokes and then passed out. That was like a month ago. I've not had sex since then. I think I need a mercy fuck too..."

My sister, if this IS still my sister, my sister, who I thought was a debutante, is not only a party girl, but also a fucking slut. And I like it, this split personality.

Bipolar bitches rock!

Fuck, I had no idea. I had no idea she was a wild chick. I guess after boarding school, an all-girls school, being a coed, off on her own, she's making up for lost time.

Unlike me, in the gym, practice field, or always in front of the computer.

I guess we both have our demons... And they most definitely are coming out to play now... Coming out for a dirty little dance...

I'm tipsy, yeah, but my demon's conscientious enough to know that this might be my only shot at fucking her.

"Mercy fuck?" I spit the words out with alpha presence, but after the phonemes fall from my lips, my spirits sag, and I'm thinking pity isn't how I want to lose my virginity.

"Mutual mercy fuck, bro... Haven't you ever dicked out a mercy fuck? Pitied some horse-face chick with a nice body? Banged a butterface? Never did one of those? Drunk-fucked an uglier, Sarah Jessica Parker type chick you'd be embarrassed to be seen with by your bros?" she asks, chuckling and curling an eyebrow, tilting her head a tad.

My sister's shine is in and out of me like water through a sieve, and I guess I could lie, make up a story about banging a big juicy Kardashian ass, turtle ugly face bitch, but my demons show their cards, speak for me. With candor.

"I never have... Never have had or given a mercy fuck..." I susurrate, my jaw tightening, and I angle my eyes downwards, to her cute little exquisitely pedicured, pink-painted toenails.

"Wait a sec, uh, when was the last time you had SEX?" I hear her ask.

"It, I..." stammering, I hiccup involuntarily.

"Wait, you're a virgin? Oh. My. GOD! Hmmmm, hmmmaaaa, BWWWHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAHHHH!!!!" she cackles, gasps, and points at me, won't let up. "But, you, you," she pauses, gulps a series of deep yoga breaths, and finally catching her wind, she continues, "you're on the football team! Are virgins allowed on the football team? You're not gay, are you?"

I've never shared some of my teammates' homophobic beliefs and don't care much about what others do in their personal lives, but I don't appreciate my sexuality being sardonically questioned. I don't care if it was in jest. Time to put a stop to it.

I roll over, get on top of my sexy sister, pancake her, pin her down, and thrust my torso, grind my pelvis into hers. I can feel the heat of her box. It makes me hard.

"Do gay guys do this?" I ask, reaching down to her smoothly waxed, shiny thighs, and clasp the hems of her T-shirt skirt, yank it upwards, slowly, revealing her pristine body- first her magnificent, milky thighs, thighs so athletic and cut they appear as if chiseled from marble. Then I continue the unraveling, lifting her skirt up past the triangle tip of her panties, which are red lace, flimsy and see-through enough for me to notice she has a bald pussy...

Onwards I go, until the full V of her panties are displayed as I push the garment up and up and over her taut tummy, up to her matching lacy red pushup bra.

I halt, marvel at her twin mounds, the immaculate, plump cleavage, how round it is, its middle like a shadowy gorge.

"You're such a fucking perv..." she hisses but doesn't fight back and lies flat like a starfish. I take it as my cue to continue and lift her dress over her head and off her body, and she cooperates, nudges up her shoulders and lifts and straightens her arms to let me peel it off.

She lies in only her cherry red, lacy lingerie and I lie next to her, cup her tits in my hands and squeeze them.

"It's the apocalypse, and I can't die a virgin..." I tell her commandingly. I can see her pupils dilate.

"If we survive, DON'T you dare tell anyone!" she exclaims and hooks her thumbs into the band of her panties, pushes them down her legs and kicks them off. Then she grabs and guides my right hand in a beeline to her hot box.

I palm her soft outer pussy lips. They're big and puffy, slick and warm. I lightly swipe four fingers upwards and over her cunt, and then I trickle, flutter my fingers back downwards, nestle them to her hot, slippery slit and push my index finger inside. It glides in easily. Her sopping pussyhole is sizzling, tight.

"Ooh..." she purrs, and I slowly begin to fingerbang her.

"Faster, harder..." she implores, between heavy breaths, her body squirming and twitching, and she spreads her arms straight and wide, as if crucified to the bed, and clasps fistfuls of the silver sheets.

I comply to her commands and speed up. Her pussy is creaming, dripping cunt nectar as my digit explores and plunders my sister's hot cove.

Her moaning intensifies, "aah, ahh, arrggg..." and then, "AAHHH!!" she wails and squirts a bitch-shot orgasm, her juices trickling down my arm.

After coming, her body slackens, and she crumples, melts into the bed. She pushes my hand out of her pussy, and reaches up under her shoulders, unhooks her bra, whirls and tosses it to the floor.

For the first time in my life, I have a naked girl in my bed. And it is fantastic. The fact that it's my sister makes it even more hot. My demons, stroking in the darkness, approve.

"Fuck me..." my sister beseeches me, spreading her legs into a wide-open split.

She then caresses my stone hard cock that is pitching a tent under my pajama bottoms.

I slide off the bed, rise, and as if my clothes were on fire, I tear off everything, chucking my pajama top and bottoms, my boxers, socks, in all directions. The floor, covered in me and my sister's clothes, is looking like a fucking tornado had hit.

Standing nude, my seven-inch concrete cock points straight at my sister, like an angry accuser in a court of law, and I stroke my throbbing member along the shaft, peer down at my sister's parted legs, stare down her pussy. It is soooo pink and picture-perfect, neatly shaven and cleanly kempt, her pussy like a flower in full bloom.

She lies seductively, snarling at me, rubbing her heavenly cunt with her fingers, her index and pointer in an inverted peace sign, her digits circling, thrumming and pinching her pulsating, enlarged glans clitoris.

My sister nods at me, spreads apart her puffy, pink outer pussy lips, bestowing the dark beauty of her dripping wet pussyhole.

Gripping my stiff cock, I climb back into the bed, crawl on my elbows and knees and inch up, nestle between her silky thighs, mount her.

With one hand she rubs the small of my back, and with the other, she takes hold of my manhood, her feathery hand gently massaging my dick, then guiding it by the shaft, aiming it at her opening.

"Ready?" she asks, tickling and brushing my strangling hard prick along her warm wet slit.

"Oh, fuck, yes..." I mumble, the tender viscosity and welcoming warmth of her pussy lips on the tip of my dick fucking driving me ballistic.

She tugs twice more on my cock, readying it, and then lets it go, and I thrust, burying my dick deep inside her hot pussy, balls deep in her heat, buried to the hilt.

Her tight pussy stretches out and makes a splattering noise as I enter, like a juicy piece of fruit being crushed.

So this is what sex feels like? I wonder, my engorged dick joyously impaling, killing my sister's hot cunt.

Fucking for the first time, I understand so much. Her cunt is like an oracle. And I can see. I can see why everyone is so obsessed with this, how it makes people crazy, why people pay for it, why it sells products and perpetuates the human race.

It's awesome! Why haven't I always been doing this? I think, our bodies melting into one another, and I pick up the pace, gyrating my torso, pumping in and out, stabbing my sister's sweet snatch, and I hit it faster, faster, begin rocking my sister's hard body, slamming into her, deeply, our skins, our bodies slapping at one another like steady applause.

(While my fleshlight and the Purple Chick's mouth had helped prepare me for pussy, actually fucking a live vagina, is far, far better than I EVER could have imagined!)

I hold onto my sister's wide hips, and I thrust myself into her, purposefully, then, breathing heavily, I change up the tempo, work my cock more adagio, and she moans and groans, her tits shaking and jiggling as her body bops up and down.

"Oh shit, oh shit... Oh shit, you're not wearing a condom, are you? Oh shit... STOP!" yells my sister between moans.

I halt but don't pull out. It feels way too good to leave her heavenly place.

"DON'T fucking come in me. I'm not on the pill or anything. Okay? Seriously, pull out... Okay?" she admonishes me, in a lecturing tone, and slaps me, pretty hard, on the chest.

With her sharp face, she kinda looks and sounds like a younger sexier version of our mom as she speaks, which turns me on even more...

"Cool, chill. I won't come in you. Relax, sis..." I assure her and resume stabbing into my sister's little sister. It's almost feeling tighter after she'd lectured me, like the muscles had clamped up, contracted in fear.

While fucking her again, it occurs to me that I've not kissed her yet, and I lower my face to hers, but, panting, she turns her rosy, angelic cheek away from me.

So I lift a hand to her head, turn her face to mine, my eyes line up to her eyes, and I touch my lips to hers, poke my tongue into her slick, peppermint vape flavored mouth.

Reluctant at first, her tongue lies stationary as I dip into it with mine, but after a few seconds, it springs to life, animated by passion, and meets mine, shifts, twirls and dances, plays my naughty game. My sexy older sister is an exquisite kisser.

She wraps her long legs around my ass, knots me into her, and clutches and squeezes me, pushing me further inside, enhancing my pumps...

After 30 seconds of intense kissing, we break our seal, our lips coming undone with a loud pop, and I shift down, lick and suck the circumference of her tits, mostly focusing on her stiff, sticky, salty toffee nipples, nibbling, and licking on them; her nipples growing rigid at my tongue's teasing touch...

Just to think that these were the gorgeous tits I'd been staring at earlier; these were the tits I'd always imagined sucking, and here I am, inhaling my sister's splendid knockers.

She runs her hands over my back, massaging, caressing my rippling, toned lats, tickling her sharp nails up, lightly over my broad, statuesque shoulders, her fingers burrowing, scratching the skin.

I get my fill of her tits in my mouth and ease back up, swing my face to hers. We French kiss again, this time softer, at a lower pulse, for about 10 seconds and then we lock bodies, hug into a snug shell. Ululating, she buries her face into the crook of my neck, her burning breath bouncing off my skin, prickling my pressure points, plumbing the nerve-endings of my soul...

Our bodies as one, together in taboo union, I gather momentum and speed up, fucking her harder, and harder, the box-spring mattress squeaking, EE-ER-EE-ER, the filigree metal framework shaking, the bed rocking and bouncing at the force, slap of our bodies; her pussy muscles spasming and clamping tighter and tighter the harder I dig into her.

Her pussy stretching and straining, she squeals, "Oh my, oh my, oh my FUCKING GOD!! OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" and lets loose, her pussy squirting and flooding my pelvis, oozing down my balls, her sticky cunt sap dripping like candle wax onto the bed.

Her sizzling liquid dribbling off me is a divination. Biologically, cosmically, my urge then arrives, enrapturing me.

The tingling. The blanket of blissful, heavenly heat. The rush, the endorphins, the euphoric rush, the feeling, the tightening of the balls, the curling of the toes, the feeling of God, the root of creation, the feeling right before a man comes.

It is here.

My demons want to shoot every bit inside her sweet snatch, but I heed her wishes, and I unloose my bearhug grip, vault my arms into the mattress like parallel pillars and jut back my hips, letting my cock slip out of my sister's hot snatch; my unit popping out with a PLAP sound as it breaks her pussy's tight airlock.

The breath leaves my lungs, and I let my cock fire. I blast wad after wad of cum, landing recklessly, onto her bald mons pubis, her thighs, and all over the silver silk sheets.

It's like a 50-pound weight lifts off my back, after I finish dropping my load, and I collapse in an exasperated heap next to my sister. We both are out of breath.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, she speaks up, with a bitchy tone.

"Not bad for a first-timer..."

"Not bad?" I shoot back, a little insulted. I'd just rocked her world. I figure I deserve more credit! Especially for an incel!

"Okay, okay, it was pretty good... You fucking narcissist..." she says, sweetly enough, running a gentle, feminine hand over my muscly thigh.

"It's quite a start, bro, and if you make it to the NFL, even if you're a kicker, you'll be able to bag a truly superhot chick, maybe a Cowboys Cheerleader..." she whispers in a sugary coo.

"Oh, I already bagged a truly superhot chick. You're the hottest girl I've seen in my life, sis. Seriously. I've ALWAYS thought that. I could never do better than you." I tell her, strongly, enthusiastically, feeling like more of a man, not being a virgin anymore.

With puppy dog eyes, she whispers, "Aww, no matter what happens, we'll always have..."

But she's interrupted by thumping footsteps in the hallway. Growing louder. And LOUDER. Then voices.

It's our parents! They've come home early!

"Oh shit, it's the parents!" I say as quietly as I can and gasp, and we both spring up and off the bed, dash like mad to dress as quickly as possible.

A knock on the door.

"Hold on!" I yell, stepping into my pajamas, kicking my boxers under the bed. There's no time to put them on.

My sister quickly wipes the cum off her thighs and snatch with her panties and slides on her T-shirt dress hastily, stashes her bra and soiled panties and the vape pen under the blanket and hurriedly fixes the blanket to conceal the cum stains on the sheets.

We look at each other, panicked, and there's another knock, and then the doorknob begins to turn as if possessed by a poltergeist. Fortunately, I'd bolted the door or else it'd opened...

"Hold on, we're playing a game!" I yell and run to the door, glance once more at my sister, who nods in assent, and I unlatch and open the door to the orange glow and cool hush of the hallway.

Our parents stand in my doorway, looking nonplussed.

"What in Sam's Hill are you kids doing? Still up at this hour?" scolds my father, arms akimbo, the wrath of God on his face, his Montblanc rectangular frame eyeglasses slightly askew and the long sleeves of his slightly wrinkled light blue Armani cutaway collar dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. With his slicked back gray hair and penetrating glare, handsome features, he reminds me of Pat Riley.

My whale of a mother flanks him, stands in a mauve velvet tracksuit, hands on her hips, her eyes like a viper's, her button nose crinkled and upturned, her lips compressed.

"We were playing a game on the computer. Went on late, got, uh, very competitive." I say, as convincingly as possible, my voice cracking on a few syllables, and I notice how messed up my sister's hair is, how big and high and poofed up it is. She could have been from a 1980s music video.

"For Pete's sake, don't tell me you've corrupted my beautiful little angel, got her into those stupid computer games," chides my mom, shaking her head in dismay... If only she knew how her "little angel" REALLY is, my demons chortle...

"If you weren't on the football team, if your foot wasn't solid gold, you'd be a real loser, you know that?" says my father, being his usual caring self. Deep down, it makes me happier that I'd just fucked my sister, his daughter, and I want to brag about it to him, like, hey, I banged a chick this hot, but that wouldn't have gone over well...

It occurs to me, too, that the parents thinking I'm a nerd probably kept them from being too suspicious of what I'd just done with my sister. That's a win. For me, and kickers and nerds everywhere, I guess.

"What happened to your hair?" my mother asks, waddling into my room, extending her chunky arms to style my sister's out of control locks.

"We were roughhousing, playing around, getting competitive with the game..." says my sister, a tinge of trepidation and guilt to her voice.

"If you hurt her..." my mother seethes, venom boiling in her blood-filled eyes.

Might have hurt her pussy, my demons lash back in a chainsaw of a cadence.

It's becoming apparent why they'd hidden my sister from me all these years, say my demons. Probably not to avoid exactly what'd happened that night, me fucking her, but maybe them worried about me going all JonBenet's brother on her...

"I hurt HIM!" my sister rebuts, confidently, with a billion-dollar smile.

Her pussy is so fucking tight that his dick might be winded, its poor urethra panting! My demons conjecture, and a demon flings up a claw for a fist bump...

"Hurt him all you want but leave his foot alone... Christ, it smells like mint... The hell was going on in here?" says my father, snorting and panning around the room.

Neither my sister nor I wish to reply to that.

"Why are you guys home?" I ask, casually, doing my best to change the subject.

"Ah, the stupid coronavirus, ski lifts were shuttered, so we're back. Your mother's too germophobic these days to stay in a hotel, even the presidential suite in the Ritz..."

Mother swings her head to the side and scoffs, mumbles something uncouth.

"It's time for bed. For you too, sport. You'll be at practice bright and early tomorrow morning for kicking drills. Even if you're hungover. Got it?" asserts my father, the bulldog. I guess the Jack on my breath isn't easy to hide. Glad that's all he notices.

"Now let's take you to bed..." my mother says, locking arms with my sexy sister, and leading her away, like the police.

We wave goodnight, guiltily, us two naughty kids, nearly busted by my parents, my sister and me.

After they'd left the room, I fish out my sister's undergarments from under the covers and sniff them, enjoying the musky scent of cunt.

I decide to store the lingerie in a Ziploc bag in my computer desk's bottom drawer, for, um, safekeeping...

六六六

It's afternoon, the next day, and my sister and I pass in the courtyard. The aroma of roses hands fresh in the air. The shapes of the flowers in the garden reminding me of my sister's delectable pussy as she approaches, walking ever so girlishly.

It's different, seeing her after having had sex with her. My mouth waters as I lecherously leer at the sharp angles, curves of her form, and how well-silhouetted it is in her caramel leotard and jet-black compression tights. Her dance clothes are so shape-showing that I'm able to spy the outline of her plump pussy lips in the V of her crotch. My eyes solidly affix at her cunt and I want more. More of her. I want to feel more of her flesh. My demons howling and growling like wolves at a full moon at the mere thought.

We stop, make painful small talk for a couple minutes. Then she hurries off to an online dance lesson and I peep and perv on the tightness and shape of her ripe leotard ass as it wiggles away and disappears through the woodwork of the French doors...

I want to text her an invitation to see me again, come sneak into my room, late night, and partake in a Round 2.

However, a voice insists I try a different tactic.

I whip out my phone, open the Ouija board app and swipe around the pointer, write into it, "Meet me in my room, at midnight."

I sit into the garden's gray marble bench, and watch the goldfish pond, the fish swimming and darting around. Then I toss back my head, witness a chemtrail gently fade into the inky blue sky. About a minute later, the phone buzzes and lights up. The Ouija board pointer shifts about on its own volition.

It spells out:

B

E

T

H

E

R

E