The Better Woman vs. BriBunny: Family FuckFight – Part 1

The Better Woman vs. BriBunny on FCF

The Better Woman‘s Warning:

Ok, so, real talk, girlfriend. This story gets dirty. HELLA SWELLA DIRTY. Sister-on-sister. Mother-on-daughter. Daddy-on-daughters.

So just, like, DON’T READ THIS if a story can be too dirty for you. Because you legit might die. Okurrr *Snaps*

Just go back to the other, safer chat-logs with hairpulling, Star Trek, underground fight leagues and you know………….not freak shit like this log, because this one will MELT your mind.

Looking for Part 2? Click Here

Jennifer – The Better Woman

They say as you get older, you only remember your childhood in flashes. Just the bright parts — the parts you loved. With even moments of sadness fading, with every year that passes. And though I am only 19, the only moments I remember — the only moments that I can picture in my mind now, are of us … fighting. Calling each other mean names. Pulling on each others hair. Taking each other’s toys. Tearing down each other’s lego constructions. And though at the time, those things hurt, they never separated us. Instead, even through tears of anger and frustration we would take each other’s hand, and continue on together; never parting.

In fact, when mother and father would catch us being cruel to each other — yelling and fighting, they would try to send me to one room, and you to another, and we would cry. Kick and scream at the air, until they relented and let us play again. I remember days where we would hand-in-hand leave the house, and go sit beneath our favorite tree, ne we had carved our names into together, and there, as the midday sun began to descend in the sky, we would lace our fingers in each others hair and pull. Not so bad that we would yield, but instead with grips and force of a strength that would allow us both to just be — to both sit for hours, tugging. Our eyes locked together. Neither of us with any idea what we were doing or why. All we knew is that we wanted to. Badly.

Yeah … we were weird. As I got older, I expected those urges to pass, and our hobbies to change. But as thirteen turned to fifteen and sixteen to seventeen, we continued. Sneaking into each other’s beds at night, crawling under the others covers. Whenever I would come, you would be waiting, and when you did the same, there I was: ready. There under the blankets we did not speak. Did not discuss. Instead, we would again, as we did under our favorite tree, take a grip of each others hair and pull. But when that wasn’t enough, we would kick at each other, until legs seized and together we would squeeze each other. Our eyes always locked as we studied the look on each other’s face and the glimmers in each other’s eyes. Then came the scratching. The clawing. And before we knew it, we would wake up together. Locked in each other’s grasp. Foreheads pressed together. Hands still in each others hair and on each other’s bodies.

I know this sounds like a story of the past. That I am about to say that we grew out of it, as I had always expected, but we did not. And in fact, last night, our last night before mom and dad were going to take us to our new college and new dorm room, we fought again. Wildly. Viciously. For the stupidest of reasons. I borrowed your jacket, and you were mad. Together we clashed in our room, making so much noise, both by screaming and smashing into things. But eventually, when we had locked each other in a hug meant to hurt, we pulled together, and to my shock … OUR SHOCK, we kissed. It was not you or me, but both of us who pulled our lips together. The kiss only lasted 10 seconds, but to me it was at once both not long enough, and an eternity. An eternity after which we pulled apart, and looked at each other scared. Worried. Confused.

Feelings still running through me, the morning after as I sit here in the small, two-person backseat of our parents mustang. Waiting for you and them to get in. Waiting for our trip to college. Waiting for a chance … to talk to you about what happened between us and why it happened. Assuming, foolishly, that you know.


Sisters. Not twins, of course. No one would look at us and think that, but sisters. Mom and dad were very “busy” people. I was born in January, and before the year was out, I had a sister. Being so close together in age meant that I can’t remember not having you in my life. There was never the tension that comes when siblings are separated by several years, and one is used to being the center of attention and getting all the affection and gifts, and then another child comes along. No. It was always you and me.

As far back as I can remember. Mom and Dad didn’t fully understand us. They loved us both individually, and of course they loved us together, but they way we got along never made sense to them. Eventually, they just had to let it be. They just had to accept that some mornings they would wake up and find us in each other’s bed with our legs wrapped and our hands in each other’s hair. They had to accept that some nights when they wanted us to come inside for dinner, they’d have to go to that tree and convince us both to let go at the same time by starting a countdown. They never understood it, and neither did we. It just … was.

And then last night happened. It had never happened before. All the times we’ve been face to face, hands in hair, bodies pressed, rolling around on the floor or bed, not once had it happened. But last night it did. I swear to God that with a gun to my head right now I couldn’t tell you who initiated it. All I know is that I tasted my sister’s tongue last night for the very first time. I’ve kissed boys. I’ve even kissed girls. I’ve never kissed anyone like I kissed you last night. It was only 10 seconds, but it was instant passion, instant desire, instant lust. It was full of history and love and yearning.

As if I didn’t want there to be a single part of your existence that I hadn’t experienced, and this taste was just a start. Who knows how long it would have lasted if Mom and Dad didn’t come through the door? As soon as we heard the doorknob turn, we both broke the kiss and started swinging wild slaps at each other. That was not exactly a first, but swinging with that much passion certainly was. They had to grab us, separate us, and put us in our separate rooms. And for the first time after being pulled apart from you, with your taste on my lips and my cheeks stinging from your slaps, I didn’t cry to get back into your room. I was too confused. Too unsure of what you’d say. Or even of what I would say.

And now we have this trip. It’s not too far. An hour or so to get to school, where you and I are going to be roommates without Mom and Dad. Mom gave you the lecture, and Dad gave it to me. “Promise to behave, please.” “Of course, Daddy,” I said with a kiss to his cheek and a quick smile that always disarms him. He smiles. “You don’t have to tell her you’re sorry, but she’s still your sister, and I never want to see you two slapping each other like that again. This has gone on long enough.” I just smiled, “I know, I know.” “Ok, then go get in the car and let’s get you girls to school.” I slide into the backseat with you a few moments later, and we barely look at each other.

They’re upset they saw us slapping at each other, but if they only know. Dad fires up the Mustang and it roars with the loud roar and vibration of a motor that guys think makes a girl wet, and they’re not totally wrong. I lean against one side of the car, you lean against the other, as Dad flips through the radio trying to find something to listen to to break the silence. Mom turns around, smiling at us both, “ohhhh come on, don’t look so upset! This is a big day. My girls are going to college.”

We both smile for her, and as she turns back to the front of the car as Dad chastises her about wearing her seatbelt, I slide my hand across the back seat. It slides across the black leather until my fingers find yours. I still keep my head turned. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I’ll feel if I look at you, or even if I’d be able to control myself. So I just slide my fingers in with yours and hold your hand as Dad drives us to school.


As I see you and dad talking on the doorstep to our home, I can’t take my eyes off of you. Eyes which glisten with tears. Last night was so…. I can’t even describe it. Not even now, even after spending an entire night thinking about it. A night in which every moment between us played on loop again and again. Every look. Every scratch. Every push. Every tug. Was all of that…. Was our constant fighting. Constant testing. Some kind of….

Oh god, before I can even finish my inner monologue. You turn, and begin walking towards the car. In an instant I avert my eyes from you, and in my flash of vision, our eyes catch and you too look away.

When you get in, but before mom and dad is get in, I want to talk to you. To turn to you, look you in the eyes, and try to figure out what happened. But when I try, you couldn’t be less accessible. Looking away. Leaning away. Looking not only angry, but honestly scared. To that same place, I retreat, doing the same, just as mom and dad get in.

Within minutes, we are on the open road, and once there, the questioning begins.

“Jenn, did you remember to bring your toothbrush.” Dad asks, as if I am a child.

“Yes, dad.”

“How about your favorite sweater, you know you’re going to need that if you go out at night. NOT that I want either of you staying out late.

“Yes, dad.”

“Good, maybe whatever happened last night two knocked some sense into you. You’d forget your head, if it wasn’t screwed on, normally.

“God, dad! UGH!” In frustration and anger, I look out the window, now more upset than before. But then I feel it, your fingers slowly move to mine, and in a blink I take them. Pulling your hand into mine, and holding it so tightly. For as always, though we fight, and hurt each other. And now KISS, apparently. I love you more than anyone else in my life. Trust you more. Count on you more.

But as minutes turn to tens and then thirties, mom and dad slowly lose track of us. They beginning to talk about work, and the neighbors. Celebrities and what they will do with our rooms in our absence. And as they do, I start to sit up straight, wanting you to be closer. Our lingering, loving, hand-in-hand embrace softening the ice between us. Pushing me to want more of you, of us.


I can feel it. It’s the draw, the pull, the desire I have to be next to my sister. I can only be apart from her so long. I can only look away from her for so many seconds before I have to see her and have to see her smile. And with our fingers interlaced, palms pressed together, I can feel it again. You start to shift in the car, and I shift too. I sit up straight as you do, and I lean towards you slightly.

It’s only a matter of moments before we are resting with our shoulders and heads leaning against each other. I sigh at you. We still haven’t said a word to each other since last night. Our hands separate, almost on cue, and they slide up each other’s back. I rub you gently, stroking your back with my fingers and smiling. My fingers dance in your long hair, and in the rearview mirror dad looks back at us and just has to remark. “There’s my girls.”

Mom turns, “Awwww… let me get a picture of you two.” As she fumbles in her purse for her phone, we both put on our girlish smiles and wait. My head slowly turns towards you as she readies the camera, and I whisper in your ear, “The moment they’re gone, we pick up right where we left off.” I tug your hair gently as Mom holds up her phone and snaps the picture.

If that care ride had been any longer, I might have started kissing you or fighting you right there in the back of Dad’s car. I’m SURE he’s thought about having two girls in the back of his car like that, but I’m equally sure it was never his baby girls he imagined.

As Mom takes a few more pictures, Dad pulls up to the apartment he rented for the two of us. It’s right across the street from campus, and they both hoped that the extra expense of paying for an apartment instead of a dorm would be well worth if it kept us out of sororities and wild parties. If only they knew that what they were really paying for was our arena, but that’s getting ahead of the story.

“We’re here,” Dad says as we pull up. “Come on, come on, let’s go see it,” Mom says excitedly as she opens the door and steps out of the car. I pull off you, my hand pulling from your hair, and I get out as daddy’s seat slides forward. It’s a beautiful red brick building, fairly old, but with gorgeous ivy growing up the side. We don’t have too much. Just a couple suitcases.

Dad gave us each a credit card and told us to go by furniture sometime soon. Dad did get us a couple of inflatable mattresses for the first few nights though. We all head up the stairs, my fingers interlocked with yours again,  as if I refuse to let you go no matter what might happen once they leave, and Dad uses his key to let us in. It’s beautiful, with soft tan carpet in the living room, hardwood floors through the rest of the place, including the two bedrooms. “Oh my god,” Mom says. “This place is perfect.” I look at you and smile, “Yeah, I think it is.”


Quickly do we return from the depths of tension and very precipice of anger with each other. It taking only a touching of our hands, and a squeezing by each, for we to communicate what needs be said. Leading to us sitting up and then leaning together. Resting our heads against each other like the cutest of siblings. Our hands moving to each other’s back to massage and caress. Not firmly or sexually, but lovingly.

As we become again, who we were before last night. In that warm embrace, I close my eyes, and just breathe. Loving the feeling of having you back. US back. Wanting to just be with you, alone. So we can be … whatever it is we are destined to be. But then, like the harsh screech of a hawk, waking me from a campfire slumber.

Mom and dad see us. Comment to us. And demand to take a photo. For them, and so that they leave us alone, I move to smile. But just as I do, locking in my smile for them, you turn and whisper: “the moment they’re gone, we pick up right where we left off.”

The sound of your voice, low, and almost growling, sends bolts of electricity up my spine. As they travel, I turn to you, mouth agape, eyes narrowed and lust-filled — just as the photo takes. A moment later, mother looks at the photo and almost yells. “Jenn! What the heck is that face? We need another one. I swear, you two are so silly when you get together.” If only she knew, I think to myself, as I turn back to her and the camera, my reaction fading into a generic smile.

And though each of us want more from each other, especially after such a promise? Threat? Instruction? We wait.

And before we know it, we’re there. The apartment. Into it we walk. And once inside, I let you do the talking, too … uh … too EVERYTHING to talk to them right now, or to think about our new home. And so I just wait. Silently. Responding only when necessary. Every comment made with the intention of getting mom and dad to leave. Finally, BLISSFULLY, they head towards the door. Beckoning us over for one final hug before they return home and leave us alone together.

“You two are going to be ok, together?” Dad asks me almost in a whisper. “Remember, no matter what, she’s your sister. She loves you. And you two can make it through anything, as long as you stick together. Right?” I nod, and press my forehead to his chest as he gives me a brief hug.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see mom giving you the same speech, though likely from a different place. When she finishes, they make one final goodbye and then head out. When they do, and as the door closes behind them, I press myself to it, and make sure it seals. Locking it, before I turn around to face you. Almost scared.

Then closing my eyes and taking a deep breath before I roll against the wood of the closed portal onto my back. My eyes opening into small, fire-etched slits as I look to you. Ready. Wanting. Desperate.


Finally. FINALLY. It’s only been minutes. Maybe fifteen minutes at most. They’re our mom and dad, but I just can’t wait for them to leave. I’m looking at my watch. Looking at the floor. Thanking them. Replying shortly. Doing whatever I can to get them out of here.

No, I’m doing whatever I can to get you alone in here. I can’t get over how I felt last night. I can’t shake it. That kiss. That fucking kiss. It was everything you could ask for in a kiss with another person. And I have to know… was it real? We’re sisters. Everything about it was wrong.

So very, very wrong. And yet it felt more right than I’ve felt in a very long time. And I want to feel it again. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to discuss it. I don’t want to use words and concepts to try and explain how I feel right now or what I felt last night. I just want to feel it again, because when I do, I’ll know it if was real or not.

We each hug mom and dad and kiss them goodbye. Mom hugs me and pulls me close as Dad is hugging and kissing you. I see him whisper in your ear too, and I don’t really have to guess at what he said. Mom is giving me the same speech.

“No matter what, she’s your sister, first and foremost. You too can get through anything as long as you go through it together. Do you understand?” I nod and smile.

Mom pulls me into her ample chest that we both inherited, and I can feel her heartbeat through her chest. And Christ I swear her nipples are hard, but I’m sure as hell not going to say anything about that. Mom and Dad give us one last goodbye as they leave, and the door shuts.

We can’t hear it, but Mom smiles as soon as the door shuts. “You got them the soundproof apartment, right?” Dad nods, “Of course. I’m not stupid.” Mom looks back at the closed door for a moment and then turns back to Dad. “Who would have thought that wanting to fight other women was hereditary. She smiled, reached down and grab Daddy’s cock through his pants, squeezed it, and the two of them walk hand in hand down to the elevator, leaving us completely alone.

On the other side of the door, it’s just you and I. The door closes, and I watch as you lock it. Every nose, from the close of the door to the clicking of the lock, seems amplified right now. So does the pounding of my heart. You don’t turn around right away.

There’s a hesitation… whether it’s because you’ve changed your mind or because the possible future that lies in front of us right now is too beautiful to be real and you’re scared to rush into it and be disappointed, I can’t be sure about. Whatever the reason, I feel no hesitation at all.

You roll against the door to turn to me, but by the time your eyes open I’m almost on you already. My hands are up high, sliding over your shoulders for your soft hair. My fingers twist into your strands as my breasts press to yours.

But all of that is foreplay in a sense, because all I want, more than anything in the world right now, is to taste my sister’s lips again. My lips press to yours. It’s not a shy or peckish kiss, but the kiss of a lover who hasn’t seen the object of her affection in weeks, maybe months, even though we are barely ever apart.

Our lips part. Our tongues slide into each other’s mouth and dance across each other’s wet, pink muscle. My hands pull your hair, not to hurt you (although it’s certainly a hard enough pull that it’s going to hurt), but to pull your tongue deeper into my mouth, and my tongue deeper into yours.


Ooh my god, my entire body is on fire. My blood red-hot as it travels through my veins. My clothes seem stifling. Our distance from each other suffocating, even as you travel. But still, even in my insatiable desire for you. To continue what we started last night.

My palms remain pressed against the door, unable to move. Unable to act. And though I am so affected, you are not. Something you show me as you almost slam your hands down behind my head, and press your body to mine. Your beautiful, gigantic tits.

Ones just like mothers. Matching hers in color, size, shape, and my jealousy when I think of them. But UGH, as they press against me, time seems to slow. Coming to a crawl as our eyes lock and you lean in and press your lips to mine.

Where as last night, our kiss was unsure. Each of us scared of what was happening. Now. NOW, we are ravenous. Our lips parting like mirrored Red Sea’s, our tongues come in search of one another.

There, between our pressed lips, and swimming in our moist, lust-heated breath they dance together. Stroking and lashing, all until they meet with too firm a press, and then they for dominance battle. And though it is incredible. Not only the best kiss I have ever had.

IT is nothing, compared to how it feels when your fingers swim through my hair and take hold. Tugging. Pulling. GOD FUCK! I NEED IT! And so I raise my frozen hands to your hair, and take the same grasp. Tugging again, as always. Locked together in this mutual, mesmerizing moment of desires long denied.

Part of me screams to be heard. To pull away from you and talk about this. To try and rationalize what we are doing. Who we are. And what our entire lives have actually been about.

But as our kiss becomes more and more intense. And as I find myself further and further intoxicated by my desire for you and yours for me, that scream fades into nothingness. Over it. Beyond it. Wanting nothing but this. Wanting nothing but YOU.


“How long do you think they’re going to wait?” Daddy says as he stands with his car door open and looks up at the window to our third story apartment.

He slides into the car and takes his seat next to mom. She smiles, leans over across her seat and starts to kiss daddy softly on the cheek. Her right hand lowers down again to the bulge in his pants and begins to rub him firmly in her grip.

“How long are we going to wait?” Daddy smiles, “the moment we get home, I’m going to pin you down and do to you whatever I please.” Mom squeezes his cock, “If you can Big Daddy. If you can.”

Upstairs a fire rages. Not the kind that could burn this beautiful old building to the ground, but the kind that could change two lives forever. I’m wet. Dripping. I’ve been wet since the moment I went to bed, and going to sleep with my fingers jammed inside me did nothing to help. But that wetness can’t dampen the fire.

The two are inversely related, quite paradoxically. The more the fire rages, the wetter I seem to be getting. And even though we are only in the first moments of this… whatever this is… the fire is raging. I pin you to the door with my body, pressing my breasts against yours and rubbing them against you.

Mom used to say that I got her breasts, and you got her mother’s. Either way, it’s clear where our family assets lie. And if my lips weren’t so occupied right now, I would scream. Not in pain. Not even in pleasure. I would scream for you to grab my hair and pull it hard, and without even having to say a single word, you do.

I wince at the first pull, and then moan against your mouth. I lean in more, making the hair pull even worse for myself, and I roll my tongue across yours.   Saliva drips from our lips, down our chin, and falls to top as they swell and spread across our pressing chests.

“Fight me” is all I say to you, and we go spinning. Rolling across the door to the wall, staggering across the wall, trading back and forth who’s pinned against it until we come rolling to the large sliding glass door the leads to the balcony and looks over the parking below.

Our shoulders press to the glass, my right, your left, as we pull each other’s hair and lick each other’s tongues. I start to pull down on your hair, trying to get some control, wanting to control you… own you… take you… make you mine forever. Daddy and Mommy look up from the parking lot as Dad backs out the car.

Mom smiles and points up, “Look.” Dad smiles and says, “I hope they’re going to be ok.” Mom rubs him again, “They’re going to be more than ok. They’re going to be great together.” Inside we grunt and gasp and sweat.

Inside we struggle, pulling each other’s hair at the roots, trying desperately to get the other in our control, but trying just as hard to make sure that we don’t break this incredible kiss.


Even though we are absolutely breathless in our kiss. Trying to quench the endless thirst a raging fire that can never, and will never be extinguished. Pouring nearly a decade of hidden, secret, and taboo needs into this kiss. This one, incredible kiss. I need more.

Not eventually. Not soon. But NOW. But what do I want? Sex…? A fight…? Yes. I mean no. I mean — YNO-ES. I want…. FUCK! As I struggle to find it. The words. The answer.

You give it to me, as you pull back from our kiss, and say with a voice quivering like I have never heard before: “fight me.”

Words spoken by your lips, which drag mine along as even in your need to challenge me, we will not break this second REAL kiss. And yet before I can give it to you. What you want. What you crave. We begin to roll, each of us trying to pin the other. To dominate our sister, and prove to her we are the alpha and the other the beta.

At least here. At least when it comes to our secret battle. And though we both try, so hard, grunting into our kiss, straining with every muscle, we only stop when our mutual sides press to the deck glass. There, as we continue to kiss, we show ourselves, unknowingly to mother and father, who have not even left yet.

Together they discuss our future, as mother rubs his now rock-hard cock. The feeling of which pushes father to suddenly stop the car, and then pull back into the parking space they had only just backed out from.

“Maybe we should stay. You know…. Find a way to distract each other while they … uh … to make sure they don’t need anything.” Dad asks, clearly wanting — NEEDING to take mother on right then.

“Mmm, looking to get beat before we get home, hmmm … daddy?” Mother says in a coy voice, as with one hand she massages her own breast and with the other she continues to play with father through his pants.

“There was that closet, just outside their door. I think it was big enough for me to pin you down.” She suggests, knowing that she will have the advantage, given father’s already intense state of excitement.

“Ummm….” Father offer as he leans his head back, mother’s hand breaking his concentration. “Yes … yes, let’s go.” The only words he says before they separate, open their doors and run upstairs and to the closet. One just outside of our apartment. An apartment in which we continue to roll again. All until suddenly our hands seize tight on each others hair.

So tight. And so painfully, each of us frustrated by our equality, that together we drop to our knees on the floor. Whimpering into our earth-shattering kiss. Our tongues pausing mid-stroke to let us process the pain.  

And though before we almost never willingly broke from such a hairpull, I need my hand. I need to explore you. And so though we remain kneeling in front of each others, breasts pressed together, I take my right hand from your hair, reach under your top, and then grab your tit. Not wasting a second in threat, instead immediately setting to work. Digging my nails in and twisting. Kneading. Torturing you

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Mom and Dad burst into the closet, hands grabbing for each other and each other’s clothes. It the only clothes they have, so each of them is careful not to tear anything at they remove them piece by piece.

Inside, unbeknownst to us that our parents are just feet away stripping each other and beginning their own fight, we collapse to the floor on the soft rug. It’s a nice contrast to the hardwood floors I’m sure we will be rolling across eventually. The tan carpet presses against our knees as we go down, our tongues pulling back for a moment to make sure that we don’t bite into each other’s tongue, or our own, from the drop.

I slide my tongue out almost immediately, pulling on your hair and pulling my mouth back to yours as we both squeal like school girls. You, however, are ready for more. Your right-hand leaves my hair and drops, sliding under my old worn our Nirvana t-shirt and grabbing for my left breast. You grab at the pink bra and squeeze.

My breast bulges over the top and your nails press in and I scream out and fall back. “awwwwwww gawwddd….” Your nails press in and your hand twist and pull and work my breast as I hold onto your head and scream.

In the closet, Mom and Dad have abandoned their clothes. They’re circling, with Dad’s hard cock pointing right at mom. Dad hears the scream from inside the apartment.

It’s soundproof to the hallway and other apartments, but not to this closet. His head turns, distracted for just a moment as mom strike. She steps in, grabbing his heavy, hairy balls in her hands, and she squeezes, twisting him the way you twist my breast, and forcing him back into the bare concrete wall.

We hear a bang and a weird groan, but we are too involved in our struggle even to notice. I stare up into your eyes, my own watery from the attack on my breast, and my right hand drops from your hair. I don’t’ grab for our arm though. I grab your ass. I slide my hand into your shorts and grab your firm, full left cheek. I squeeze my sister’s sexy ass and pull, pulling my nails into you and pulling your hips into mine.

Even through our shorts, our kitties press together against each other, and it elicits  moan of pleasure from each of us despite the pain. “uhnnnmmmmmmm yesss… fuckkk” I moan out as for the first time in my life, the deeply, intensely sexual feelings I have for my sister, no long need to be repressed or contained. I pull you into me more, pull on your hair again to pull your lips to mine, and I kiss you again even as we claw and grip each other’s breast and ass.

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As we not only struggle against each other, but FOR each other, I hear it through the wall. The same grunt I have heard hundreds of times. The one I have always asked you about, but you say you had never noticed it.

I had always assumed, since my bed was closer to mom and dad’s room, that it was them having sex. Some guttural groan of father’s ecstasy. And though the sound is heard by me, and should raise alarm bells, or at least a surprised concern, it doesn’t even pierce my thoughts.

All of which focus on you. All of which, are fixated on this engagement and our long-destined realization that we are more than sisters. More than rivals. More than lovers. But a beautiful mix of all three.

And as that truth is revealed to us, through each other’s desire, and our reaction to it, mother and father too struggle — in a battle they have waged for decades. One in which mother with a hand on father’s shoulder pins him to the wall, leans in, with his balls in her squeezing hand. “You’re mine, daddy. Admit it.”

In reaction dad’s hands move to her shoulders and he tries to shove her away. She, in turn, uses her giant breasts to keep him pinned and beneath her. “No, no, daddy.” Mother chides in a mocking tone, letting her hand drift to his shaft, and stroke to keep him hard and unable to truly focus.

As they so struggle, you take your hand from my hair, and though I expect you to grab my breast, as I do to you. To use it to twist, and gouge as I do, you instead move it to my ass. And with it there, you adjust me.

Pull me. Push me. All at the same time, shifting our hips so that our kitties lock together, even through our clothes. “Fuuuuckkkk. Whaaaaatttt. Uhhhh” I speak into our kiss, even as you pull me forward into it. Our kitties pressed together, without obfuscation for the first time in our lives.

For yes, in the past (starting after our 18th birthdays) we had found ways to press together. To rub together. In the shower “accidentally”. As we pulled hair because we were so close.

But this. This is real. This is unchecked. This is unsullied by shame and fear. And it makes me want you nude. Us nude. To press flesh to flesh, and to feel this for real. And though I need it all off, I start with your bra, which I move my attacking hand to tear down, giving me a small taste of what will soon be our normal state of dress

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Our parents battle with their bodies and the sexuality and reproductive organs just feet from where their only daughter fights and grind their bodies on one other.

For the first time, we bump and don’t pull away. We don’t hide it. We don’t pretend like it didn’t happen. We embrace it. We want it. You immediately start pulling at my bra and I start pulling at your shorts. The intent is clear. Crystal clear. We want to be naked together.

We want to be in this exact position but with all of our womanhood and bodies exposed to each other. I grab your shorts with both hands and hook my fingers in. I make sure to hook them in your panties too, and I push down.

For the first time since the door closed my hands aren’t in your hair, but that’s ok. Getting you naked is far more important than pulling your hair, and if this goes how I think it will, we have the rest of our lives to pull each other’s hair. My bra pulls down in your hand and you stretch the straps enough until they snap in your hand and my breasts come free entirely. Your shorts and panties are well below your ass.

We hear another noise from the wall, not even knowing there’s a closet there. It’s a woman’s voice. Somewhere between a moan and a scream. I never fathom it could be mom’s voice.

Dad reaches down and grabs her breasts, the two large breasts that originally drew him to hear. Th same two large breasts that nursed the girls stripping each other on the other side of the wall.

“You bitch” he grunts as she holds and strokes his cock, trying to control him, and he grabs her tits and starts to squeeze, working her nipples and pushing his way off the wall as her forces her back from the pain and the pleasure.

I grab your hair again, and we roll. One full turn until you are the one in the back and it’s my ass in the air. I slam my hips down on yours and press myself against your bare kitty as my right knee pushes on your shorts and tries to force them down even more. My hands grab your top, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pulling it up.

The fabric stretches and tears, and while a bitch might leave it around your arms, that’s not what I want. Not today. I pull it up and off, thrust myself down on you again, pressing my bare breasts into your bra, as my hands reach under you and grab for the clasp of your bra, trying to undo it, tear it if I have to, whatever it takes to trip my sister and expose her body to me fully.

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“Shit….” Mother says in a breathless mutter, as father’s expert play with her nipples, for the first time, forces her to show some sign of her own excitement. She tries to fight it. To close her eyes, bite her lip, and refocus herself on her stroking. But father is driven now. And within a blink, rolls them, pinning mother to the wall, all as his left hand moves down mother’s body, grabs her skirt, and then with a single, strong pull, he pulls it down — intentionally leaving her panties on.

But as he stops short, wanting more to play with, to tease mother thereafter, we are wild as we strip each other. Pulling tops. Unclasping bras. And as we roll, and you place me beneath you, but just after your first thrust down into me — one that makes me moan so loud both mother and father hear me, I slip my fingers under the waistline of your shorts and panties, pulling them down together over your sex thighs.

It is then, we having lost our shoes before mother and father even left, that we have each other. Finally nude. Finally, bare to each other. For the first time catching a glimpse that we do not have to do from the shadows. And at that moment. As we lay surrounded by our removed clothing, we pause. Looking at each other. Eyes scanning up and down each others body. But then. As one moment turns to two, I thrust my bare left breast at you, and thrust myself upward, again locking out now free and soaking kitties together. Adjusting my hips to invite you in.

And though I invite you, as my hands move to your breasts again and begin their attack anew, mother fights. Trying to escape our father’s pin. Trying to shift her hips away, as father’s left hand slides into her panties. “Whose in control now, mommy…? I think daddy is….” Father taunts, as his rough, work-worn fingers slide into her already wet pussy — flush with heat from her excitement about this, her favorite game.

As those fingers move, mother screams out, half in a desire to take control again, and half in pleasure. Her scream, and mine match, and ring out together, as you begin to thrust yourself into me, and me back into you. Our eyes caught in a deep, desire-filled gaze. One through which we communicate as we fuck. My hands squeezing your beautiful breasts. My teeth almost biting at the air at you, challenging you to something. ANYTHING. On fire at that moment, and for you.

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Mom and Dad play the same game they played the nights we were conceived. Of course, mom doesn’t fight a lot of men. Just daddy.  She was a stripper at a club that featured weekly oil wrestling, and she did more than her fair share of catfights for hire, sometimes against a husband’s wife, sometimes against another paid competitor.

That’s how she met Daddy. She wrestled at a bachelor party in a kiddie pool fool of oil, and due to a freak accident, she got hurt. He didn’t see her as a stripper in that moment. Not even as a paid wrestler or sex object. He took care of her. Helped her get cleaned up, so it wouldn’t be clear what she was doing, and took her to the hospital. He even lied, making himself look bad to say they were on a date and he was trying to hold her up and hse slipped, to cover up for her.

The lie about the date became a real date, and the rest is history… a history that involves lots of love, two beautiful girls,  decades of supporting mom when she fights, and fighting her whenever they’re alone. They acted confused by how we were. Like they were clueless. But deep down. They knew. They just didn’t want us to know. They wanted us to figure it out on our own.

“Ohhhh Daddy”… the moan is loud and comes from the wall. Daddy puts his big, rough fingers inside Mom and begins to work her.

The only reason we don’t stop to figure out what is going on is that our moans are drowning them out, and whatever sound isn’t drowned out, the pure raging desire inside us both is doing a well enough job to keep us focused on each other, body, mind, and soul. Our kitties smear, and for the moment I regret everything I’ve done before.

Not with you, but with everyone else. Every girl I’ve fucked. Every guy I’ve sucked. Every kiss I’ve shared. Every “first” I’ve ever had disappears as I feel my sister’s sex on mine, and I know in this moment every first I ever shared should have been shared with her.

Our bodies adjust, hips sliding, legs moving, doing whatever we can to bring our pussies closer and more intimately together. Daddy’s fingers pound in and out of Mom’s wet sex as he leans in, pushing his chest against her breasts and flattening them against her chest, and whispers in her ear, “moan, you slut… moan to the sound of our baby girls fucking and fighting each other.”

Our eyes lock. There’s so much I want to tell you. So much I want to do to you. Your hands come to my breasts again, and you grab. I grab you right back. Grabbing your nipples and twisting them hard, I pinch the gorgeous brown numbs flat between my thumb and my forefinger.

My left hand squeezes your right tit, making it bulge in my grip, and I lower my mouth as my left hand pushes up, and I bring my lips to your nipple. I lick over it, lock and wet, and then I take it in my mouth and suck on your areola as my tongue flicks and rubs across your nipple even as I moan and wince in pain from your work on my breasts.


Mother and I. Mother and I. It sounds so wrong. But at that very moment, we are in the exact same place. She pinned by father, and me pinned by you. Father’s fingers stealing from mother he ability to fight, as your taking of my nipple into your mouth and the intensity of all of this doing the same to me.

My own attacks on your breasts softening as my neck angles backwards, my lips part, and head drops back as I moan. Such momentary weakness mother suffers, as her strokes of father’s cock slow, and linger at the tip. Her focus on their battle broken, just as mind becomes in regards to ours.

And though you, in all of our newness, have not yet realized the opportunity, father knows it well. Moving to take advantage of it, by dropping to a crouch, and with his teeth, grabbing the waistline of mother’s panties. Thereafter tugging them down, as he continues to reach up and play with her nipple with his left hand. Mother’s hand falling from his cock as he descended.  

And though father starts to take control of their battle, I almost give you the same in ours. As my hands, which had been focused on hurting you. Making you whimper. Now almost massage. My fingers coming to gentle pinches of your light cafe-colored nipples, more out of my own desire to please you than hurt you.

At that same moment mother and I feel it together, though apart: shame. SHAME! We should be fighting our rival for dominance, but instead they — you both are taking control of us. And as that fact dawns on you, the same look in father’s eyes come to yours, as you realize you are so very close to seizing what we have fought over for years.


For years I lied in bed thinking about kissing you, and last night it finally happened. On many, many nights, I laid in bed and rubbed my womanhood, doing things to myself I didn’t fully understand, exploring myself, and my desires, with YOU in my mind. Your nipples in particular. Your breasts are so pert and firm. Your nipples so hard when you get excited. And now I have on in my mouth. I suck at first, pulling and stretching your flesh, and then dragging my tongue over it. It’s paradise. It’s divine. It’s everything I imagined it would be and more.

And that’s what I want. More. My mouth switches to the other nipple as your fingers weaken and it feels like you’re massaging my breasts. There’s a moan from the wall again, neither of us sure enough about the layout of the building to realize that the sound is coming from a fucking closet, and for a moment I wonder if people can hear us.

“It seems we’re not the only ones having fun,” I moan as I pull my lips from your nipple for just a moment.

“Oh fuck me, Daddy” comes clearly and loudly through the wall as daddy’s fingers slide past mom’s pussy to her rosebud and begin to press and swirl as dad’s tongue stabs into to our mother’s sex.

“I think I’m going to like our neighbors,” I say as my lips pop from your nipple and I kiss into your cleavage, kissing my way down to your chest. My hands slide to your wrists, and I pull them from my breasts as I work my way down your body. I slide down you slowly.  

I try to pin your arms hands to the floor as I kiss your flat stomach down to your pelvis. I lay my head on you like I was trying to listen to your womb, and I just breathe in deeply, inhaling my sister’s scent. What am I supposed to say? “Hey sis, I’m going to tongue fuck you now”?

No, I don’t need words. I kiss my way down, feeling your legs parts as my body slides between them until my lips find your labia. I kiss you. Kissing your lips with mine. Softly at first. Slowly letting the events build and unfold. Each kiss is more aggressive and more passionate until almost a minute goes by and your only sister is making out with your hot, dripping sex.


Down into the same abyss of sexual submission mother and I travel, though on opposite sides of a single wall. And though it is a path I have never traveled, it is one mother has traveled so many times.

Walking on both sides of the road, to one end, and then the other. And so as father begins to focus all of his attention, mother focuses her efforts on resisting. And then as she curries the requisite strength escaping. Doing so by bringing her hands down to father’s shoulders, and giving him a quick shove backward.

As he travels, she lifts a bare leg, places a heel on his shoulder, and then with a switch push, she sends him down to the closet floor on his back.

Quickly does she then pounce, stepping forward with her unbelievably sexy legs, bringing one to either side of father, and then lowering herself.

In a straddle yes, but not over his cock, but just in front of it. Pinning his legs together and beneath her as she takes his cock with one hand and his balls with the other. Again giving him enough pleasure to distract, and enough pain to make him want to submit to her. “Clever boy, daddy. Let me reward you now….”

Mother rises from the ashes, but I…? I do nothing as you crawl down my body, pulling my wrists and thereby my hands from your breasts. Pinning them to the carpet, as you then rest on my tummy.

It is a sweet moment. A soft moment. But almost mocking, at least to me as I fumble to find a way out of my own sexual paralysis. A paralysis which worsens as you put your mouth to my sex. One dripping with my own juices. One molten hot from my excitement. One that is your for the taking and tasting, as I do not but moan out into the room. No doubt bringing a smirk to your face.


Mom twists Daddy’s balls in her left hand as her right hand strokes up and down his thick, hard, veiny shaft. Daddy’s grunt out loudly, loud enough for us to hear again. Of course she wants to make him cum. She wants him to lose control and release his thick, sticky fluid outside her body. He, of course, wants to release it inside her. We should both be thankful that just over 19 years ago, Daddy proved the victor… twice.

And as their voice rise through the wall the separates us, it gives rise to a competition. I want to make you moan as loud as they are moaning. I want them to hear you. To hear us. I want them to hear what I am doing to my baby sister.

My tongue slides between your labia, and I taste you in a way that is unthinkable for most sisters. Of all the girls I’ve ever gone down on though, you taste the sweetest. My tongue swirls and stabs inside you, moving from ceiling to floor and rubbing up against your walls. My tongue pushes as deeply as I can get it and it flicks inside you as my nose rubs against your clit.

My hands release your wrists. I kiss your wet inner thighs as my hands slide up the carpet beside your body.

“Scream for me, baby…” I say it breathlessly as my fingers begin to twist themselves like serpents into your gorgeous, soft hair. I twist and twist, wrapping your hair around my fingers as I continue to kiss you and to smear your own honey on your thighs.

“Scream like we’re all alone… Scream like there’s no one down the hall to hear us… Scream like my tongue inside you is everything you’ve ever wanted in this life.” I suddenly pull down on your hair, jerking your head back hard and pulling like we were young girls in our bed or beside the tree.

I pull my mouth to your pussy, and I assault you with my tongue, working my tongue back and forth, sliding the tip across your ceiling and stroking your g-spot over and over as your sweetness smears across my lips and across my face.


I can hear their groans. Their moans now. They are so loud, whosoever voices they are, though they sound so very familiar. And were I, like you, in control I would want to match them. Beat them. Force you to scream to the heavens, singing like the seraphim in god’s choir. But now, all I can think about is resisting you, even though almost all of me has given in. And so when you ask me to scream for them.

I refuse! NO! I think to myself. Clamping my lips closed to deny you such a sign of your dominance! But then, you do it. You pull at my hair, and when you do, they part. And through my lips comes a primal, guttural scream that matches and beats anything our mystery rival lovers have come up with.

My scream, makes it even harder for daddy, who had been doing his best to resist mother. To not come, except inside her. But at hearing a such a lustful sound being torn from one of his daughters by the other causes his raised head to lay back. His reaching hands to slam down. And his cock to seize in mothers hand, so very close to ejaculation.

But as the master mother is, she slows, wanting this to last. Her domination. Her moment of power, though she has had so very many.

“That was Jennifer, you know. I have always told you Bri was stronger. Hotter. Sexier than Jennifer. Didn’t I, daddy…” Her every word sounds as if it comes from the mouth of a snake, and father’s breathless reply like her venom-filled victim: “Jennifer is….”

As they debate our quality, using it more as a game to turn each other on than a real preference, I continue to scream as your tongue flicks up and down. Stabbing into me like like a dagger coated with the sweetest of poison.

But as you continue to pull on my hair, I reach for yours. And when I have it. Two handfuls. I feel something surge through me. A memory of our years of struggle. A need to give more to you, than I am. And so those hands grip hard, and then tug. HARD.

Pulling you up and away from my sex, though so much of me wants to let you continue. As you react to my sudden resistance, I pull you up high enough to wrap my thighs around you, and then with such a grip, I roll quickly right, and then fully left, moving you to your back as I straddle your chest.

From such a seat, I look down at you, my clit placed precariously on one of your hard nipples, yet to realize the danger in such a position. In that danger, I speak: “No! I’m in control!” I demand as if it is a fact, that I have yet to earn such a statement.


That scream. It echoes in my mind like a drug. I want more of it. I want to hear it again. I want to feel your body tense in that pain and pleasure. It’s a scream that almost brings your own father to orgasm, even if you don’t know it.

“Jennifer is…” Daddy starts to say, before Mommy twists his balls and squeezes them hard, making sure the pain overtakes the pleasure to keep him from losing control sooner than she’d like. “UGHNNNNN FUCKKK” There’s another moan from the wall.

“Be careful what you say about my baby girl,” Mom teases. “Jennifer is… your daughter…. uwhnnnn fuck … and she will never take it just lying down.” “She’s a fighter, isn’t she?” Mom asks knowingly as she brings her mouth to daddy’s cock and licks across his swollen head. “Yess, godddd…yesss she is…”

On the other side of the wall, I pull your hair and taste my own sister’s most intimate parts. I feel your hands sliding to my hair, and I moan out against your sex, “yesss… do it…. mmmm … do it, sis.” And you do. You pull, and you pull hard. “AWWWW SHIT!” I scream as my body starts to slide up yours from your hard pulling.

“You bitch!” I scream, pulling on your hair, but that only helps me pull up more. Your thighs wrap around me, and with a twist one way and then the other you pull me down and onto my back. I try to pull your hair hard enough to control you, but you are determined, and we both scream and curse at each other.

“Mmmm it sounds like Jennifer is fighting back,” Mom says as she lifts her lips from daddy’s cock. But we just keep fighting, pulling hair and grunting and smearing our sweaty body against each other. The smell of our perfume, mixed with sweat and our sex fills our nostrils.

You rise up on me, taking your seat on my chest and looking down on me. I look up at you, panting, breathing hard, my breasts rising with each deep breathe and pressing into your sex as I do.

“Is that so?” I say to your taunt about being in control, and I reach for your ass, I pull you down onto my breast, my nipple stabs onto your clit, and my hands begin to squeeze and smear across your ass, spreading your sexy cheeks and down your sexy crack, rubbing over your rosebud as I try to hold you in place, I realize the one first I still have to give someone.


Suddenly, from the depths of sexual submission I return, and we are at each other once again. Cursing at each other. Pulling hair, you to subdue me, and me to keep my nascent control. Through that struggle I succeed in turning you, mounting you, and pinning you to the carpet.

It is such a brief moment of dominance, and yet still it is so precious to me. But as quickly as it comes, it fades, as you begin to fuck me with your nipple. Pressing it to my sensitive clit. Turning my seat of power into one of doom.

“FUCK!” I shout out, as I try to move. Unsure what to do, or how to counter. Each way representing danger. If I slide forward, and past your holding hands, I present to you the chance to each me out, backwards, and you might cross our thighs and fuck me. Each would be worth risking, if I wasn’t so excited already.

So stimulated from your round of unchecked tongue-work. And so instead of forward or back, I choose up. Using my strong, thick legs to push me up, using my grips on your hair to pull you with me. Knowing I must escape, but not even close to being done with my body vs. yours. Bodies which now drip with sweat, and have only just begun to ache from exertion.

“Ah, see … Jenn is in trouble again. Bri is so magnificent….” Mother comments, as the thought of us together begins to play in her mind. Her eyes closing, and again her focus on father’s cock waning.

In that opportunity, daddy rises, reaching up, and grabbing mother, pushing she and they into a quick roll. And though mother reaches up to his shoulders to push father away, before she can, he enters her and she screams, loudly, outdoing even the scream you tore from my lips.

You and I pause, as we struggle to a stand, for we know it. That sound. That voice. “Mother…?” “Mom…?” We say in unison, before looking to each other, confused. This time, not at our own actions, but our parents.

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What a beautiful introduction to our new place, our new home, our new life … our new lift together, actually … it would be to see you cum like this. On my breast. Your legs spread around me. A

perfect view of your gorgeous sex with my hard nipple pressed against it. My fingers stroke over your ass. I arch my chest and shove myself into you even more. “Cum you slut… cum all over me.” But as the words leave my lips, your aggression amplifies. You grab my hair again and pull up, pushing with your knees and lifting yourself off my breasts. You’re a very clever girl it seems. I was fully prepared to eat you out to a screaming orgasm if you slid forward, but you found your escape.

There’s a grunt through the wall. The sound of rolling bodies. Moans. And then a scream of passion and pleasure, one that we both know so well. Our father pins our mother to the floor, grabbing her large breasts in his fingers and squeezing. Her scream is both pleasure and pain as Daddy hold her breasts in his hands and drives his nine thick inches into her wet pussy.

“UHWNNNNNNNN YOU FUCKKK YEESSSS GAWWDDD” She screams, and our heads turn almost in unison. We both say it at the same time. That was our mother’s voice, our mother’s scream. We’d know it anywhere. In the distraction, I put my hands on your hips, and I shove, throwing you to the side and off of me.

I roll to my knees and grab my t-shirt, holding it over my body as much as I can as I open the door and poke my head out into the hallway. Nothing. No Mom. No Dad. No sound. I lean back into the apartment, and the moans return. I poke my head out again, and this time I see the door to the closet that is adjacent to our place. I run out, completely naked except for the shirt I have covering me just barely in the front,  I open the door, and I gasp.

When the door opens, I see my father holding my mother’s large breasts in her hands and squeezing and twisting them much like you were doing to me minutes ago. Daddy is fully inside her. Mom’s legs are wrapped around him, and while it’s clear she’s trying to make him stop, it’s also clear he isn’t doing this to her against his will. I scream, “WHAT THE FUCK!?!” and storm out in shock.

“Bri!” Daddy and Mommy shout almost in unison. Daddy releases her breasts and pulls out, grabbing what’s left of his clothes and trying to get to his feet. It would have been comical is there wasn’t so much wrong with the whole scene. Daddy falls. Tripping over himself as he tries to get up. I storm back into the apartment, my head spinning.

When I hear my name called, I turn, facing the door, watching as Mom and Dad, both naked, holding their clothes come staggering in. “I can explain,” Mom says frantically, and I’m so confused and perplexed and aroused and emotional from all of this, but especially from my fight with you, I don’t even

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There you stand. Angry. Confused. On the very edge of tears for so many reasons. But as they stumble in, almost naked, save for what clothes they hold against themselves.

Their faces tell you of their feelings of embarrassment and shame, each wearing a look of distress.

And though they are you are focused on the illusion each of us has apparently been keeping up for years. I AM FUCKING OVER IT. I don’t care. Not any more. Clearly! Based on your reaction. On what we heard. And now, putting all the pieces to the puzzle together, pieces I had been collecting for years.

I know. Everything I heard through the wall. Their taunting of each other. Their sexual escapades that lasted for hours and whole weekends at times. Now. NOW! It all makes sense. How they always stopped us, but never punished us for fighting. How mother used to tell me how amazing you were. How father used to tell you the same about me. FUCK. NO! And though one might assume, my next act will be to yell at them. To attack them. I instead, do something neither of us would have ever expected.

That coming as I grab you by the shoulders, push you forward and between both mother and father your shoulders rubbing against their bare ones as you pass.

Then, after a quick spin at the end, I slam you back-first against the wall behind them. Press my lips to yours, and bring my right hand down to your sex. Slipping my fingers between your steaming wet lips, letting my fingers pass just over your clit, only to then drag it back.

Father goes to speak. To drag us back into this fantasy that we are normal people. With normal parents. Normal daughters, who are sisters and nothing more. But mother stops him. Clamping her hand over his mouth, and bringing her hand down to his ebbing cock, quickly working it back to a stand.

“Shhh … honey. Let them be, we have something to finish.” Her words come like a purr as she walks him backwards to our yet-unused couch and pulls him down with her. He landing at her side as she pleases him back into silence. With wide eyes he looks to her, panicked. How can we…? But they’re….? This isn’t…. He wants to say, and tries to. But as he stroking sets in, his eyes return to normal. And once again mother pulls him into their battle.

And as mother fights to drag father back into their never-ending war, I try to do the same to you. Pressing my own palm against your lips, as you try to tell me to get off. Never letting my fingers stop. Until I see it coming over you again. Our lust for each other. Your need to fight. Then, at the very peak of your return, I lean in, and whisper in your ear. “Fight me….” Just as you had said to me, not a foo from where we are now.

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I’m almost shellshocked. Everyone knows, at a certain age, that her parents are sexual beings. But knowing it’s the truth and seeing it in front of your eyes, and seeing it like that, are two very different things.

Dad wasn’t romancing her. He wasn’t sweetly and gently kissing her and making love to her. The grunts and the groans that we heard through the wall mixed with what I saw, mom’s breasts painfully groped in Dad’s hands as his hard cock pounded insider deeply her, tell me everything I need to know, even it’s taking me longer to put it all together than I would like.

They were wrestling. Fighting. Fucking. Just like we were. Mother and father on one side, their daughters on the other, wrestling and fucking and fighting each other.

That’s why they never stopped us. They wouldn’t just let us fight, but they never told us it was wrong or bad. They never punished us, and now I know why. And now I understand the noises you told me about. The ones I would hear when I spent the night in your room with my fingers wrapped in your hair and with yours in mine. I’m lost in thought, trying to take it all in, standing in front of my mother and father with all of us naked, horny, and sweating. I’m almost in a trance until I feel hands on my shoulders.

You thrust me forward and I bump into mom and dad hard. It’s enough to make them both spin back, make me grunt, and make us all drop the clothes that we were holding up in front of our naked bodies.

“What the hell BITCH!?” I scream followed by a loud groan as you twist me and slam my back into the door. “UWHNNNNN” Just past you I can see Mom and her gorgeous breasts. I can see Dad and his hard cock.

Gawd. What the fuck is going on. And while I look at them and try not to stare at my father’s manhood, I feel your fingers suddenly slip inside me. “UHHnnnnnnn fuuuuuuck,” I moan out as your fingers curl up and rub inside me. “You… damn… slut,” I grunt out through he ecstasy, trying to compose myself as my sister finger fucks me in front of my mom and dad who are doing nothing to look away.

Dad starts to protest, but Mom silences him quickly. One hand on his mouth, one hand stroking his cock. She slowly strokes him and pulls, walking him like a puppy towards the couch in one of the purest displays of raw sexual power I’ve ever seen in person.

Mom starts to stroke hom on the sofa as just feet away one of their daughter’s is finger deep in the other’s pussy. Your figners rub inside me, right over my g-spot. I moan. Daddy moans as well. And you tell me to fight you. My eyes light up. I stare into yours for a moment before grabbing your hair and once again pulling your mouth to mine. I kiss you wildly, and out of the corner of my eye I see mom motioning for daddy to take a look.

My other hand slides down your stomach to your already overheated pussy. My fingers on my right hand slip in to match yours, stroking over your clit. My left hand pulls on your hair and my left foot pushes on the door as I try to fight my way off. “UGHnnnnnnnn…. let’s fight, you perfect slut!”

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Finally your eyes light with fire again, and you forget. You move past. You, along with me, bring and end to hiding. From mom. From dad. And they from us. FINALLY! We are each and everyone of us free. And now. NOW we can focus. Mother on father, and he on her.

You on me, and me … on you. It is that focus, and my sudden shift from the quiet little sister. The one who followed your lead since I was taller than a knee, becomes strong. And so as you try and push off the wall, I push back. Holding you firm against it. My smaller tits pressing against your bigger ones, as I smirk devilishly at your reply.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, sister. It’s my turn.” I taunt you, as my head moves back and forth like a snake. My fingers working faster and faster, as I keep you pinned. But even as I tell you that I intend to dominate now. I feel you slip your fingers into me, and in a blink we find ourselves on near equal footing.

“Shit….” I let slip from my lips, though it comes out more as hot air than a sound, the pleasure of your counter causing me to lean into you, and press my forehead to yours.

And though, yes, as we are now allowed to focus once again on each other, our parents are with us, and they too watch as we fight. “Bri! Honey, do not let your little sister control you — you’re better than this.” Her comments no doubt stings for you, as I feel its harsh barb no less.

“Get her, Jenn!” Dad replies, as he pulls mother’s hand from his mouth, she sealing it tight thereafter, as she continues to stroke his manhood. Trying to bring him to climax as he watches — something mother always knew he wanted.

It’s not a family orgy, or even a family fuckfight (at least not yet), but our father and mother are sitting on the couch watching as their two baby girls finger each other competitively.

I moan against your lips, alternating between an intense desire to kiss you and an even deeper desire to completely dominate you. Our tongues slide together. Our lips seal. Our fingers work inside each other as we touch each other in ways sisters were never meant to. Mom and Dad cheer us un, not so much picking a side as they are cheering for us to keep fighting. Daddy tells you to get me, and then I hear him moan.  

“Are you going to cum watching your baby girls, fucker?” Mom asks as she continues to stroke him and squeeze him.  

“Fuck…. you,” Daddy moans out.  

My right hand reaches down and begins to grab and stroke and squeeze your ass. Your perfume fills my nostrils. My fingers slide over your sweating skin. My other fingers slide through your wet sex as we rub each other’s clit and rub each other’s tongues.

I rub my breasts against yours, scrubbing them back and forth and letting mommy and daddy watch as our breasts push and slides over and past each other. Our hard nipples drag through each other’s skin as I pull on your ass cheek and spread your ass. My left foot pushes again on the door.

I’m not trying to turn us completely, although if that happens great. I’m just trying to turn us enough so that as my fingers spread you out, your mother and father can get a good view of their daughter’s most private parts. My lips turn into a smirk at we start to turn. I don’t even have to say a word as I turn your spread ass and pussy towards mom and dad.

Here I will keep you — FOREVER! Fingering you into a puddle of lustful goo! Dominating you so completely that neither you, nor mother or father will ever bet doubt my sisterly superiority. Wanting now more than ever to control you. Here in front of our parents.

There, with you pinned against the wall, before those who gave us life. Those who had spent their every year before now and with us, trying to walk the tightest of lines. Stoking the fires of our competition with each other, but trying to avoid the consequences of such actions — pulling us apart whenever the spark they created set fire to our souls.

But that desire is not alone. No, it competes with a million others. Warring, just as we — just as they, fighting to control my reactions and actions. The strongest suiter for my marionette strings, apart from a desire to best you, is my decades old, and long-suppressed lust for you. And as I feel you give in to all of this.

To this moment. To doing it in front of our parents. To hearing you moan just a blink after father does. To feeling your body shiver when I moan in the same interval after mother. I begin to suffer from the intoxication.

The poison that runs through us both. And so when you press off the door, even though I try to press you back, we roll. Not soft or hard, but in a long, slow, press of attrition, where though we each press together, I give. I wilt. Until over we go, and it is I who am pinned beneath you. Not only pinned but exposed to both mother and father, and you spread me for them.

Over your shoulder I look, our kiss still broken, and I see it. Our parents pause, lost in the sight and the moment. And though it is both of them at first, quickly does father recover — much more quickly than mother. Who stares. Almost obsessed with the image.

And as she does, father reaches over, grabs her, and lifts her into the air, and then with pinpoint accuracy, brings her down on his well-wetted cock; leaving her in a sideways sit on his lap, almost as if she were a noblewoman riding a horse. In an instant he grabs her shoulders so she cannot escape, and as her palm falls from his mouth, and she herself gasps in pleasure he begins to fuck her. A sight that weakens me to the point that you take full control of our battle. My fingers falling from your sex.

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“OH GOD!” Our mother screams from the couch. Who knew the site of her daughter’s ass and pussy could make her so weak and so distracted. Daddy grabs her and enters her the way someone could only from years, even decades, of love and competitive sex. I first scream of pleasure, and the continued moans are enough to make me look over, finally breaking our kiss.

Daddy is thrusting inside mommy, over and over, working himself up inside her, except… he’s not watching her. He’s not looking into her eyes. He’s looking at us.

“Come on, girls….. fight.” As he says it your fingers slide from my sex. You’re gasping and moaning in pleasure. Mom’s arms flail wildly, and I start to work you back. Not towards the wall, but towards the sofa, towards mom and her hands as she looks for something to grab and try to control her movement as daddy fucks her. And when she grabs… mmm…. she grabs your ass. Her fingers run down between your cheeks as my fingers plunge in out of your pussy faster and faster. My thumb rubs your clit as mommy rubs over your rosebud while daddy watches.

“Oh god she feels so good!” Mommy moans.  

“Doesn’t she?” I say with a smirk as I continue to work you with my fingers. My lips kiss and your neck as I lean into you, pressing my breasts against you more and using my body as much as I can to continue to move you ass-first towards our mother and father as they fuck.

“You’re such a fucking whore, Jenn,” I moan into your ear as I pull my hand from your ass. “And you know what we do to whores in this family …. we spank them…. hard” My hand pulls back and starts to crack against your flesh. Each hard slap leaving a fresh handprint on your ass as I mark you in front of mom and dad, giving them a perfect view of what I can do to other women.


It all moves so fast; not only the reality of it, but the thoughts that such reality creates in my mind. As we together ski down this perilous slope, one that a week ago would have seemed improbable, impossible, and even ludicrous to even suggest.

But when I release the steering wheel we fight over for only a moment, I find myself drive. Back and away. Over and towards. As you bring me to mother and father, all whilst the latter fucks the former hard. Drilling his patriarchy into her. Forcing her to flail and reach — desperate for an escape or something to help her ride out the fucking without releasing upon him.

Such is what you bring her, as you guide our collective stumble back to her reach. Letting her well-manicured fingers grab at my ass, and feel a skin she knows so well, for the first time, as the each of us are lost in lust and desire.

And in such a state of utter and abject freedom from mores, she covets that touch. Longs for it. Using whatever grip she can muster to pull me closer to her. And as she pulls, you push. Your body into mine.

Our gloriously similar breasts (in shape if not size) together. Our near identical skin-tones making it hard to decipher where I end, and you begin. Even we unsure at the feeling of it, knowing only that the sensation of my bare flesh against yours is incredible and addictive, and each of us will find it hard, from this day forward, to not long for it, whenever we have the time to, and even when we don’t.

Then, as if sensing my own growing state of weakness from overwhelming stimulation, in touch, in hearing, in scent, and in all else, you whisper to me. Cruelly, telling me I am a whore, and at that moment I can barely argue.

Wanting everything that is happening though I shouldn’t, on so many levels. Then you spank me! Spank me! I would normally, be outraged, and angry beyond belief, but with each of your hands that falls, another lands from mother. Each of you leaving a bright red stain of hand on my ass cheeks. And though I take one, and then another. A third and then more, each makes me dizzy. Each weaker than the next. As you and mother take turns welting me for my weakness. Eventually I can take no more, and I begin to fall.

You expect it. You feel it coming, and wrap your arms around me to keep me upright, not yet done showing off for mother. But suddenly father plunges hard into her, so hard her legs kick up, and it trips me. Sending me falling backwards.

In your state of bracing you try to hold on, but all you accomplish is coming with me. Not smoothly, just down, but in a half-spin, with each of us crashing together onto the couch. Your back pressed to mother’s, and mine to the arm of the couch, with my left leg caught under your beautifully round ass.

The sudden fall separates us just enough to waken me from my moment of weakness. Free from its clutches, I raise my right leg, and bring my right thigh down for a rest over yours, and then scoot forward, locking us into a scissor.

From such a position I reach out, and as we have done since we were children, I grab two handfuls of your hair. For the first time, feeling like we are ready to do what we have always wanted, and for real.


From the sounds of it, mom is just barely hanging on. Her breathing betrays that she sits there, on the edge of the cliff, trying hard not to be forced over by daddy’s pounding cock. And yet, I don’t know if she’s helping or hurting her cause by smacking you.

I know whatever every feel of my hand on your ass does to me. It’s like a shock wave that seems to run straight from my palm to my clit, and with every crack of skin on skin, I feel my clit. But fuck… it seems to jump even more when the crack doesn’t come from my hand but from moms. Back and forth we alternate, spanking your ass, each taking a cheek and owning you for these few brief moments.

You start to fall forward into me. My left arm wraps around you, trying to hold you up, as my right keeps my fingers buried in your pussy. Daddy plunges deeply in mommy as she watches you slump forward, and her legs kick. It’s enough to send up stumbling, our legs already weak from the fighting and sex.

We stumble onto the sofa next to our mother and father, and I can feel mom’s strong, sweaty, strong back against mine. Just the feel of her tells me that one day it might be her and I fighting it out now that our family secret is out. Our legs shift, almost in unison, and we slide forward together.  

“Omg… John… look” mom says as she turns her head to see what’s happening. This isn’t fingers on pussies. This isn’t even tongues. This is sex on sex. Incestuous fucking. Incestuous competitive fucking while mom and dad watch.

Even before we grab each other’s hair, we start to rub. I look into your eyes as we slide our wet labia over and against each other. Both of us freshly shaved. Both of us already soaked. The feeling is smooth and sensual.

There’s nothing separating me from my sister’s love box. Not even hair. Not even air at this point.  We stare into each other’s eyes. Dad and Mom seem to have stopped for a moment too and both are looking at us. Daddy smiles.

“Go ahead, girls. You’re women now. Fight like it.” My hands come up to your hair, and yours to mine. We both take our time getting our grip. Neither of us starting off the attack before the other is ready, and then almost as if on cue we both pull. We pull ourselves into each other, and we start to kiss again as our hips grind.  

“They love to kiss, don’t’ they?” Mom says.  

“They always did,” Daddy says with a grin. Daddy starts to pump mommy again, but more slowly and sensually as they watch and listen. I can feel mom getting fucked as her back pushes into mine, and I can almost feel just how deeply daddy slides inside her. I pull your head back, breaking the kiss.

A long string of saliva connects our lips and then falls to our breasts as I push back, trying to bend you over the arm rest, using mommy’s back and daddy’s thrusting as leverage as my hips thrust into yours in the same rhythm and timing as dad thrusts into mom.

“Fuck… UWHNNN… FUCKK” I moan out loudly as I feel your sex on mine. I try to work my hips up and down, letting my pussy saw against yours, but we are so wet we slide everywhere against each other.


When we started this. When the door shut, and mother and father had finally left us alone, for what felt like the first time in our lives, we were so fresh. So filled with energy and strength. So ready to take each other on, in whatever ways we could.

But as we stumbled and fell, I could feel it. That though our spirit of competition is still strong. Though our desire for each other is still unquenched, and perhaps unquenchable, our bodies are tired. Each being covered in sweat, both our own and each other’s. Our lower halves soaked with our own juices, and now each other’s as they seep — as we slowly begin to trib, each of us with a tight grip on each others hair.

And yet through that exhaustion, we fight. Now locked in the most elemental of battles, my sex vs yours. Our soft inner thighs fused together as we bring our greatest weapon to bear.

And though we target those weapons at each other, and tug at one another’s hair, I see it — sense it — and in your case, feel it. The sudden stiffening of your body as your back comes to a rest against mother’s.

A stiffness I see occur in her at the very same time, a sight immediately followed as she lifts herself off of daddy, and shoves her body back and off of his cock. To he it is an opportunity, in two ways.

First, to make one final attack against mother, and finish her off. And second, to get away — something foremost on his mind as though he wants all of this, and has dreamt about it for years, he finds himself uncomfortable and afraid.

Not wanting to be too near, lest he ruin it. Lest we turn on him or suddenly stop — bringing an end to something he wants so very much. And so with those two goals, father slips out from under mother, allowing her to come a rest just behind you, just as you lean back for more leverage. Pushing yourself into mother who in turn, feeling challenged by your press, presses back. Her eyes closed, and mind distracted in what she perceives as a sudden competition with her own daughter.

As mother lingers in such distraction father dives back in, between mother’s legs, bending over the far arm of the couch, and bringing his mouth to her sex. There, as he puts his tongue to work, mother moans loudly, and lays her head back.

At first, that head bumps into yours, but then, with a soft slide, it comes to a rest on your shoulder. Her moans and whimpers coming out just below your ear. As such sounds of pleasure begin, we hit a sudden stride, not yet speedily slapping ourselves together, with an imminent orgasm on its way.

But instead, perfectly syncing our thrusts, and grinding our soaking wet, and molten hot sexs together. Our eyes on fire with passion as we stare and gaze, each of us afraid to even blink as we pull at each others hair. This moment feeling so perfect.

So right. So incredible. We each diving into long, wild kisses only to break and heave for breath. Each of us whispering almost incoherent threats and promises to each other, with no sound, the words coming out only in moving lips, and expelled air. Air with we each fight over in the closeness, and mother approaches orgasm on your shoulder.


Your bedroom was always closer to mom and dad’s, so you heard them more than I did. Of course, sometimes I could hear them too. You can only be so quite when you’re a sexual god and a sexual goddess going to war.

But now those noises are flush against my ear. Daddy slides out of mom, perhaps betraying just how close he was to losing control and filling her the same way he did on the nights we were conceived.

I can feel mom squirming against my back, trying to get away, but daddy is too fast, and in a flash he is back on her, this time with his mouth instead of his cock. Her head rests on my shoulder, tossed back in ecstatic bliss. her moans of pleasure fill my ear and I hear exactly what it sounds like when my mother is getting fucked by my father.

My own head tosses back, actually, you shove it back with your grip in my hair until mother, and I have our heads on each other’s shoulders, and our cheeks are pressed together.

A mother and her first-born daughter, fucked against each other by our sister/daughter and husband/father. We moan out against each other, but mommy’s moan turns into a scream as daddy reaches up and twists her right tit hard while the girls she breastfed fuck it outright beside her. Mom’s screams get louder and louder as daddy seems to be pouring on the pain and/or pleasure

As mom screams louder, we start to pick up the pace. Our slow grinding turning into more frenzies humping and thrusting as we hold onto each other’s hair as if we intended to never let each other go until we had drained every orgasm from our sister.

Your clit, so swollen and big just like mine, stabs into my queen, and it’s only now that I realize we are both so big because we got it from mom. Daddy wraps his lips around mommy’s clit and start to hum and suck and pull. “John you fucker!” She moans out into my ear. “I want to watch my girls fight!”

“You should see them.. they’re beautiful together,” he says before sliding his tongue into mom’s pussy and licking her g-spot. “You should be so proud,” he says. And maybe that’s the trigger because mom’s head flies back even more and her whole body starts to shake against my backs as she sprays orgasm after orgasm against daddy’s lips and onto our new sofa.  

“You’re next, whore” I moan out in absolute desire as I pull on your hair and pull myself into you more and start to pound away. Smashing my labia to yours like a club and trying to pound your flower open as our mother goes through wave after wave of orgasm on the sofa with us. My hips drive and thrust as much as I am able.

Everything is perfect. Everything is divine. Every feeling is exactly what I’ve always wanted with you, and now maybe with mom too. Hell, maybe with daddy too. I try to steady my breathing as your breath washes over my face, but everything is too intense, too desirable, too pleasure-filled. I’m losing myself in the moment, and I’ve never wanted to feel so lost in my entire life.


I am lucky, I am not beset my mother’s moans. Finally the further of the two of us from one of their epic fuck wars. As for me, it would have been distracting — painfully so. Robbing me of my ability to focus on you. And there seems to be some friction, and even some transfer of passion between you and mother as you both press and rest against and on each other, you remain focused on me. On us. Increasing our pace, and throwing yourself into me, as I do the same to you.

All as mother finally breaks, releasing on father’s tongue. In what is maybe, his first victory since either of us were born, something we are unaware of. And though she cums — her body seizing and quaking against you, your eyes house a fire. A fire that burns into me as we try desperately to hold onto each other’s hair.

All as passion overtakes us, as we begin to lose our smooth transition and consistency. Our thrusts no longer synced with each other, and now, only barely synced with our intentions. Each of us now compelled by a need greater than any else.

A desire that has smoldered for near two decades, which now seeks to be set free. A fire we can no longer deny or resist. A need we can no longer supress or ignore.

No instead we give into it, and our need to dominate one another. As each of us pull the other closer and closer, until our foreheads seal together, and at least I can no longer speak or respond — hear or even think. For the end comes. Rushing forth like a wall of shield-locked Spartans towards the walls and defenses of city of filled with future-slaves.

At that moment I fight it and you. My oncoming orgasm and my sister. Wanting so much to best you on our first, REAL engagement. And though such is my goal — my dream, I know you want it just as bad. And so together we cling. Tightly. Desperately. To the last few moments where one of us has not proven her temporary superiority over the other.

Where one of us doesn’t have to admit that for at least that day, we were bested. Never slowing our thrusting. Never giving the other even a blink to rest. Knowing that our only hope is now. Our only chance at victory is to hold on, and outlast the other. As mother failed to do, a fate she grapples with as she pulls back from you, brings herself to her knees behind you, and then watches us fuck to the final, climactic orgasm of our first battle.


The fire burns in each of our eyes, and in our hearts, and most alarmingly, between our legs. There’s already one big puddle on the couch where mom was sitting, and we’re dampening it ourselves and struggling to see who can make the other open her floodgates first.

Mom shifts on the sofa and calls daddy over. He’s brimming with joy, his face glistening with her honey, as he enjoys the first real victory that he’s had in years.

“You know what you get when you win,” she says with a defeated, but seductive tone. She wags her fingers and he comes over like a puppy. His hard cock points right at her face as she turns slightly, so that she can see our battle and so can see has he stands above us and just to the side.

I try not to watch but I can’t help it as she lifts his cock in her hands and leans in and starts to tongue his heavy, hanging balls. He moans as she sucks each of them into her mouth one at a time, humming and sucking and giving him his special reward.

Meanwhile we battle. Bodies smashing together. Tits bouncing. Pussies driving and thrusting . The smell of our dueling sex mixing with mom’s scent.

“Fuck… you… Jennn” I scream as you invade me, pushing me to a place I’ve never been, where I’m getting fucked against my will. Where I have an orgasm impending and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

All I can do is try to take you there with me, like a victim about to fall off the edge of a building with nothing to grab onto except her attacker in hopes of pulling her over the edge too.

Daddy’s eyes close, and unbeknownst to him she is moving him more between us.  Her lips seal on his cock, she sucks on his head, licks his slit, and feels that familiar twitch of an impending blast. Mom strokes his cock one more time, pulling him to her mouth, and then just as he’s about to shoot, she pulls back. Her right hand holds his cock just below the tip, pushing it down, aiming it, so when he blows, he blows right onto our dueling cunts.

“Ughhhhhhhnnnn” Daddy moans as the warm, thick, sticky fluid sprays down on pour pelvises and starts to seep between our rubbing, sliding, slamming pussies. And that sudden warmth of my father drives me over the edge.

I grab your face and pull you to me by your hair, and I kiss you passionately, tonguing you and kissing you wildly as my pussy starts to quiver and shake and then spritz over your sex. “Oh my God” daddy says when he finally opens his eyes, looking down at the mess he made on us as mother smiles and his oldest daughter orgasms hard as his fluid seeps down inside her.

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So lost in you. Obsessed with you. Just I have been since we were little, that I notice none of it. Mother watching, or her bringing father over. Their movements and repositioning. Mother taking father into her mouth, and then pleasing him.

For at that moment we are locked together in this test of wills. Test of truths. Mine vs yours. Who is the stronger, better, hotter sister? Which of us can make the other squirm? Her toes curl. Her heart skip. Her body explode against its will. I can see the confidence in your eyes, and feel the same deep within me as our cunts slam together. But then it happens, just as we each fall back from each other, no longer able to hold onto each others hair a second longer.

It is that separation mother counted on as she positioned father. That failure of our bodies she relied on as she brought him to a victorious orgasm, and then moved. Aiming his cock so that his cum came down upon us. Between us. Just at the meeting of our warring valleys. His semen seeping in and coating each of us.

Oh god. Oh god…… It was only then that my eyes moved from yours to mother. To father. And realized what had just happened. Realized that when we cum our own essences will mix with daddy’s. When the thought first entered my mind, it seemed so distant. The thought of such an exciting eventuality. But it wasn’t. Not then. Not after mother brought us all full circle, and in one fell swoop obliterated any lines that still stood between us. In so doing she pushed me over the edge. WAY over the edge.

A shove that was made infinitely stronger as I feel it have the same affect on you — with each of us being pushed into orgasm together. Neither of us first, nor second, but together. And though I’m sure, if I watched it now on film it would have happened in a flash, to me, the moment feels as if it lasts forever.

As we reach for each other desperately. Pulling each other close and kissing each other as neither of us have ever been kissed. Doing so as lovers. Rivals. Sisters. And slaves to an obsession with each other, an addiction we have never been able to control.

The kiss is like the first touch of sun, after a long, gray winter. Like the feeling of dry ground, after months at sea. Like the first sip of water after a painfully dry march through waterless dunes. Like breathing again, after being strangled by a cord of long-denied lusts and desires. And together in such joy our tongues dance. Joyous. Gleeful. Elated.BriEven as our intentions of domination and control fall and shatter like plates spun by a novice. Even as mother and father watch us, their two daughters bringing each other toa simultaneous orgasm. Neither better or worse. Neither weak or strong. Only sisters. Only equals. Only women set free.

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I hold you by your hair, but I’m no longer pulling to hurt or control you. My only thought is never to let you go. My pussy is quivering and shaking, gushing out against you as father’s essence seeps inside. I’m on birth control, but that doesn’t make this any less raw, any less dirty, any less naughty.

I’m so lost in my own orgasm that I don’t even realize until 10-15 seconds in that you’re orgasming too, and I have no idea who orgasmed first, all I feel is you quivering and cumming against me, and I know that it’s a feeling I want to enjoy again for the rest of my life.

We release each other’s hair. There’s no need. Neither of us is going anywhere, and we makeout through my first shared orgasm with my gorgeous sister. Our thrusting finally slows and we look into each other’s eyes as our spread pussies kiss and swap daddy’s fluid like to lovers sharing spit.

Mother moans and slides her fingers inside herself. She smears her fingers in the honey father releases from her, and then she slides her hand between us, smearing herself into our mess, mixing her fluids with mine, yours and daddy’s. She brings her fingers back to her mouth first and sucks them slowly.

“Oh my god” she moans out as she tastes a cocktail of her family’s cum before sliding her fingers into our mess again and bringing them between our kissing lips. It’s sweet and salty, like a perfect mixture of intimate bodily fluid. We kiss more passionately, sucking her fingers and taking them into our mouth.  

She pulls her fingers away, smears them once more, and then looks at Daddy. He looks almost reluctant, but she insists. He looks at us and we both nod, and then he sucks her fingers down, tasting the mixture of his baby girls.

We just watch and stare as daddy enjoys us, and we continue to smear him between us. I wrap my arms around you and pull you into me, pulling you off the armrest and more into the sofa, like we were snuggling and watching a movie, and not watching our daddy taste us, and we kiss softly and sweetly.

Mommy purrs. “You two are so good together… mmm.. and you’re going to have so much fun in this apartment. But… girls… next time we come over… let us know who wants to fight me… and who wants to fight daddy.” She smirks, and we just kiss again.

To be Continued in Part 2

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