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Grotte d'Inceste

12

Ever since I've been old enough to have fetishes, I've had a sibling-incest fetish. I've also had a thing for voluptuous fat girls. These equipotent attractions, however, never intertwined: my own sister, Darien, is characteristically athletic—a far cry from the plump, curvaceous girls I love to love. Darien did have very large, indeed it would be almost an understatement to say "huge," breasts; but, in my view, even the biggest breasts need to be complemented by thick, soft thighs; a round, jiggly, squeezable belly; and cute, fat, part-me pussy lips. When I fantasized about incest, I invented chubby sisters. I never pictured Darien.

In fact, I didn't even see Darien for almost three years. I went to college in Oregon, she in Miami, Florida (our parents live in rural central Florida). I came home several times the first year I was away, and returned for Christmas the second year; but after that, I had kind of formed a new life for myself in Oregon, I always seemed to be busy, and I almost never made it home. Worse, on the two occasions when I did see the folks, Darien remained in Miami. And then, when I graduated, I started interning in graphic design—not the most glorious or lucrative work, but at least (I told myself) a stepping-stone to bigger and brighter things. Anyway, I'd fallen in love with the West Coast, so I planned to settle down for the foreseeable future in Portland.

But Darien was going into alternative energy (especially working to make solar panels more efficient), and sunny sunny Florida seemed to be the perfect place for that. Thus I was more than a little surprised when, one day, Darien called to tell me that she might be moving to Portland! "It's not definite," she said, "but the job looks okay, and the first interview went well. I'll be coming up in two weeks for the second one. If that works out... how's the weather?"

"Oh, you know," I said. "Bloody rain, brimstone. Swamp gas. Pools of mercury. Beautiful. No, seriously—I love it. You'll stay with me when you visit?"

"That depends. What's the nightly rate?"

"I'm sure we can work something out."

"Creepy, Derek. You do know you're a creep? Animate refuse. Quasi-sentient sludge."

"Stop; you'll make me blush! Fine, fine, free room and board—but keep that praise coming!"

"Could I ever insult you? You're much too loathsome."

"I miss you, too."

***

As soon as I met Darien at the Portland airport—well. Of course it was great to see her: before college, we'd always been quite close, and even since then we'd talked a fair bit on the phone. But the feeling I had now, um, surmounted that. You see, Miami had been rough on Darien. She was incurably hard working, and each year she'd been away she'd done part- or full-time jobs for cash, even while being a devoted, straight-A, full-time student. Besides which, if you've never been there, let me tell you that most of Miami is one big strip mall. Darien couldn't escape as easily as she'd have liked for runs or hikes or camping trips, and finally she'd stopped trying.

And this must have trigged a massive metabolic slowing-down, or something—because, to my shock, this new Darien was not athletic, not trim at all. To the contrary. She was fat. Voluptuous, plumper fat. Instead of the jeans or short skirts she used to wear, sweat pants hugged thighs that ground together when she walked, and her plump belly actually escaped the bottom of her tank top, hanging over her waistline like an olive-toned invitation to fuck. I could see her navel—or rather, the soft indentation of tummy-fat around her navel. And her tits... O Holy Saint Mammary, what words? Always enormous, they'd become fucking gigantic. Although checked by the mother of all bras, they hung well down her protruding tummy, and tit fat bulged in all directions, creating the sexiest, most stick-your-cock-between-it, fuck-it-like-a-pussy-and-cum-all-over-it cleavage you can imagine. But lest you get the wrong impression, I should stress that Darien was anything but shapeless. No indeed, no indeed—she was curvaceously, gorgeously feminine. Her newfound weight accentuated all the right places. So don't blame me if I admit that, when Darien jogged up to me, bouncing and heaving, and threw her soft arms around me, my erection slammed against my sister's crotch. Damn. By some black magic, my arch-fetishes had converged! My own little sister was a BBW wet dream—and, as I looked into those sweet, familiar dark eyes, those eyes I'd grown up seeing, I wanted nothing more than to rip off Darien's inadequate clothing, part her flabby thighs, and drive my cock into her plump wet pussy. God, I wanted incest. God, I was in trouble.

"You look great," I said. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, long-lost Bro," Darien replied, pulling away. "But don't tell me I look great. I own a mirror. My eyespots do function. I know the status quo. I'm working on it, but I don't want to talk about it now."

"No, I'm serious. You look... amazing, really. I completely mean it."

"Another topic, please? I haven't seen you in millennia! How's the leprosy?"

"Oh, pretty advanced. I expect my arm to drop off any minute. I see your cholera's reached new heights."

"You noticed! Aw! Yes; well, I am rather proud of that. Won the Blue Ribbon in the Miami Pestilence Parade...." And so the banter continued, with our characteristic off-color eccentricity. Even when she had been less sexy, Darien had always made my day. But as it was—I just needed to get home, immediately. Yeah. This wasn't fair.

When we arrived at my one-bedroom apartment, I gave the bed to Darien and took the living-room futon for myself. Then she went to take a shower, but reappeared after a moment complaining that the lock didn't work and the door wouldn't fully close.

"Sorry," I said, "but there's a perfectly good reason for that. It starts with an 'in' and it ends with a 'tern.'"

Darien curled her upper lip aristocratically. "Ah, commoner," she sniffed. "How vain, to seek your fortune in computers! A fool's bubble! A sure dead end! No; you should have done as I. Fuel cells! Commercial algae batteries! Instant bullion. Wind turbines—"

But at this point, interrupted by tickling, Darien broke off, shrieking. She dropped to the floor, her whole body shaking, and I threw myself beside her, tickling her feet, her sides (and, "accidentally," the sides of her huge tits), the back of her neck. Her shirt rode up, and her voluptuous belly appeared—prompting a full-frontal tickle attack. She was still laughing when she escaped and retreated to the bathroom, broken door and all. She was laughing, and my dick was rock hard. I listened for the shower-water before sneaking up to watch her through the crack.

Of course I masturbated. The gauzy shower curtain was too small to close completely (the more I praise you, Lady Poverty), and one of Darien's huge tits, freed to hang down to her navel area, was on full display—as well as one fat leg and, sometimes, tantalizing hints of sister-pussy. I imagined throwing back the door, flinging the shower-curtain fully open, and mounting Darien's thick body. I would pin her arms to the wall, and she would mock-protest, pretending she didn't want it. I'd ignore her, bite her lip, and pound harder. She'd— I came, hard. Darien was going to be with me for a week. How wasn't I to rape her?

***

I'm proud to say that I stayed sweet and innocent for two whole days. But the third day was Saturday, and that meant no work for me. I got to hang out with—and I had to resist fucking—my sister all weekend. Or, if I was horrible, I could seek the opposite. Hmm, choices.

And several factors promoted would-be sin. First, Darien had been exploring Portland on her own since Thursday, was tired of it, and had grown much more interested in the looming mountains. Second, I immediately realized where in the mountains I should take her. And third, it was raining.

Why would rain be good? "Because," I told Darien, "It's summer, so it won't be too cold. But the rain keeps the tourists away, and it brings the mist out. Beautiful, thick, shimmering mist—you'll never forget it. Bear with me! Never mind the mudslides! What's a slight risk of death for a few splendid seconds?"

"If I didn't actually agree with that, I'd complain," she replied. "But as it is—yes! Let's do it, rain and all! Come rain, come hail, come locust-plagues! I'm sooo ready to get out of cities! I thumb my nose at mudslides!"

I smiled. I know my sister. She likes crazy plans.

***

The rain had grown gentle and cool, almost pleasant, when we pulled off the road at a little, unmarked trail. A friend had shown me this place two years ago, and someone else had shown him before, but I knew that it was still a general secret. The path cut through two fields, wound uncomfortably close to a cliff edge for about fifty feet, and finally ended up in an overgrown chunk of state park—or, more precisely, at a very special grotto with a spectacular view. From the weedy condition of the trail, I guessed that few people had walked it for months.

Darien hiked like a trooper, her body valiantly insisting that it was sixty pounds lighter and ideal for such things. I had been worried about the section of exposed cliff, but, luckily, the rain tapered off considerably when we reached that point. The incest gods were smiling.

As we rounded the last bend, Darien gasped with delight. The path terminated at a little hot spring, welling forth under an outthrusting ledge that created a dry area around the spring itself. The water filled a space about the size of a large bathtub or small Jacuzzi, then trickled through devious rivulets to the cliff's edge—where it became a gentle, steaming series of cascades. In the distance, far below, Portland's towers gleamed. "Derek!" my sister cried. "You didn't tell me! This place is incredible!"

"Surprise," I said.

For a few minutes we were silent, looking around. I remember my first impression, and the view still stuns me, so I can guess how it seemed to Darien. This isn't Florida.

Then she asked the question. "How hot's the water?"

"Hot," I said. "But not too hot. Actually, once you're used to it, it's pretty great."

"You can—swim in it?!?"

"Well, bathe, more like. Too shallow to swim. But yeah; you totally can. Jump in!"

"I guess I have to. I can't come here and not! But—problem."

"Mm?"

"No swimwear."

"So? Wear your underwear. We're already kinda wet anyway." It was true—and, even while we spoke, the rain picked up again. Beyond the outcropping, a wall of water surrounded us.

"I... can't, Derek. I shouldn't. I— Don't laugh at this one, or you die. My bra and panties pinch when I swim in them. In case you didn't notice, I'm no waif anymore. If I jump in like this, I'll have a wedgie all down the mountain."

Was I hearing this? My big hope had been to get her down to her panties and bra, then roughhouse/tickle/coax those off, too. Then fuck my sister senseless. But now....

"Play Eve, then," I said. "Pre-Fall. No one'll see you, not in this rain. No interruptions."

"As I remember it," Darien responded, slowly, "Adam and Eve were both naked. Well, and then fig-leaved. Me skinny dip while you wear boxers? That paints a different picture. Anyway, you need to be skinny to skinny dip."

"Like I said before, Darien, you're beautiful. But fair's fair; I'll show you mine if you show me yours, in a manner of speaking. As in, a literal manner of speaking."

"I've got a huge fat belly, Derek."

"I've got a huge fat hard-on."

Total silence. Then, at once, we both burst into laughter. "D-deal," Darien finally stuttered, gasping for air. "Weirdo! But a-okay! Pull out that prick! If it's erect, the belly comes out!"

So—I did. I took off my shoes, socks, shirt, pants, and finally my boxers. When I pushed them down to my ankles, my dick snapped up and slapped my stomach. No need for details, but my cock's no source of shame. And today, under my chubby sister's eyes, it was standing proud.

Darien had stopped laughing. She just looked. And then said: "Yeeah, Derek. So, you weren't lying, creep. Fucking creep! Why is your penis so hard?!? Well. O-kay. I...I guess it's my turn." Then she cocked an eyebrow at me inquisitively, but silently began to undress.

She peeled off her fleece and T-shirt, and her bra-girded breasts swung pendulously. At this point she paused and eyed me again, almost playfully. My eyes were fixed on her tits. Then she bent down—offering an excellent cleavage view—and removed her shoes, her socks. She wiggled out of her sweat pants, and for a moment I though she'd stepped out of her panties, too—they almost vanished into all her thigh and belly fat. She glanced up again, met my gaze, and stopped.

"Yeah, gross, right? I said I have a huge fucking belly. Now it's exposed. Ready to stop all this?"

"My dick's still hard, Sis. Fair's fair."

"Eee, yeah, I see that! Fair's fair... what's wrong with you? Other than scurvy and typhoid, I mean. If those are problems."

"Oh, just Bubonic Plague. Speaking of which..." I nodded at her boobs.

"Jesus. My brother: hard cock and bad puns. You are quite diseased. And definitely creepy. Why, why on earth do I love you? The things I'll do for family!" With that, and with a strange smile, she unclasped her giant bra—and stood before me, a voluptuous, Rubenesque, blood-related goddess, wearing only tiny panties. I tried and failed to think of anorexic girls. If I had even touched my dripping cock, I would have drenched my kid sister with cum. But Darien didn't stop. Leaning over again, her tits dragging toward the ground, she forced down her panties and kicked them off. Then she stood before me, nude, one-hundred-eighty pounds of poundable sister.

Oh my God, I wanted so much to rape her. But of course I couldn't. I also couldn't not cum.

"Listen," I rasped. "I am aware I'm a creep. And I'll gladly add wayward concupiscence, or acute libidinous malefaction, or whatever you like to my list of distempers. But Darien, I'm sorry, you're fucking hot and I have to beat off this second. You can turn around if you like."

She didn't. Instead she whispered, "I think you actually like my fat, Derek." I nodded. She continued. "You like fat tits. You like—my big belly. You probably even like fat pussies." As she said this last, she squeezed her pussy lips. They were certainly fat. And shaved—except for one cute patch on top that shouted "enter me!"

"Yeah, Darien, I do, I like it all; but now I'm gonna fucking cum!!"

Darien didn't mind. In fact, she stepped forward, grabbed my cock, and squeezed it—while I came, in a thick white stream, all over her tummy. Then she pumped out a few more squirts, and we locked eyes. Loving, brother-sister eyes. My semen glistened on her navel fat and ran down her legs. "Mmmmm, all better, Bro?" she whispered. And when I nodded, beyond speech: "Good. Now get thee to the spring!"

***

Luxuriating in the almost-too-hot, vaguely mineral-smelling waters, side by side, Darien and I gazed through the now-finer curtain of rain at mountain peaks and Portland's blue-white skyscrapers. A heavy mist moved in bands across our vision, now obscuring, now revealing. Beyond our little grotto, all was cool and fresh; here, chilly mountain breezes twined with soothing steam. It felt blissful to share this moment with my sister. I gazed unabashedly at her sexy body while she spoke, remembering the feeling of her plump fingers on my cock, her little smile when I came on her, the way her tits jiggled as she washed my semen off her belly. Why had she helped me? What was on her mind? Could this go any further?

"Interview's on Wednesday," Darien was saying. As she talked, I imagined biting her full lips, swirling my tongue in my sister's mouth. I gazed, rapt, into her dark eyes, admired her thick black hair. One strand stuck to her forehead and tumbled down her cheek, finally resting on a gargantuan, heavy breast. Our distantly Greek features worked well for Darien. At this moment, she resembled a disheveled Aphrodite—only softer, more exquisitely voluptuous. My dick was hard again, and I hoped she'd notice. How tight was my sister's pussy? How would it feel to fuck her, to cum in her? But all I said was: "Think you're ready?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm prepared for the obvious questions. They're interested in inconspicuous micro-panels that can be woven into fashionable clothes, purses, things like that. Let you charge your iPhone on the way to work. Whatever. It might make money, and that could get channeled into more ambitious things—you know I'm still interested in walling whole buildings. I've got some ideas for them, possible projects. So funny. The sunlight's in Florida, but the passion's here, on the West Coast."

"You'll do great," I said. "I hope you'll stay."

"Well, if they really like me, they might take me on right away—so I hope you're serious! I might need to stay crashed at your place for a while till I can find my own."

"You know the deal: I'll keep housing and feeding you, but you have to keep me happy. Oh, and the rent might just go up."

"Oh, might it, Der? Hm. In light of today, that doesn't seem so innocent. And I BET you'll keep feeding me: wouldn't want these enorma-tits to shrink, now would we?"

"No indeed," I answered, playfully hefting one of them.

Darien leaned in. Our faces were just inches apart, and steam swirled between us. "Exactly what kind of rent increase are we talking, hypothetically?" she breathed.

I couldn't help it. I kissed her. Her lips tasted wonderful, and she didn't freak out. But, even while I put my arms around her (or as much of her as possible!), she pulled back and confronted me. "Derek," she said. "Do you want to fuck me?"

No time for hesitation. "Yes," I admitted. "Very much. Sis, you're beautiful."

And she smiled! "Taken under advisement," she said. "Quite interesting. I'm a modern girl. Not superstitious. I am on the pill. And you know, Der, you're kinda pretty too. In a man way, of course! Ha. But... incest... is a new one for me. What do I think about... having sex with my own brother? Hm. What... do I... think... about..."

"Maybe I can talk you into it," I coaxed. "Buy you flowers. Candlelight. Foot massages. Puppies. I'll stuff you with chocolates and finger you at once. I'll—"

"Um, finger me," she said. "Yeah, start there. You can skip those other things." She jumped up onto the rim of the spring, opening her fat legs very near my head. "I said I was a modern girl. Anyway, Bro, you owe me a cum."

"Yes ma'am! I'll pay that back with interest," I said—and, using both hands to lift her belly out of the way, I leaned in to lick her chubby pus.

The moment my tongue brushed Darien's pussy lips, she softly moaned. Then she put first one, then the other thick leg over my shoulders, leaning back to give me better access. I ate my sister's cunt lustfully, but stayed focused on her pleasure: thinking of other fat pussies I'd licked and fucked, I started by sucking gently on Darien's pussy lips themselves—only now and again flicking my tongue against her clit. She responded well to this, tightening her thighs around my head. I began to hammer her clit harder with my tongue, and Darien growled: "Rrhm, yeah, keep going, Derek. Uh." I did—but, after a few minutes, when I could sense Darien's excitement peaking, I stopped and looked up, smiling devilishly. "Had enough, Sis?"

"No! No, ah, fuck you, Derek; more!"

"You like what your brother's doing?"

"You fucker! Eeh, don't stop!"

"Umm." I dove back in, nibbling her pussy lips and tongue-pounding her clit with renewed fervor. But just when I could tell she was about to cum, I stopped again. She eyed me with wordless shock, and I said: "I'll finish you off in a second. But first—promise to fuck me!"

"You're my brother!"

12
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