I wake up on a plain of tall grass. The wind is breezing by in lazy strokes over the tips of every wild blade, making the carpeted expanse of the plain sway from side to side in blissful harmony. I sit up and rub my eyes. I’m dressed in baby blue track pants and an old grey and black baseball-tee. Casual wear, nothing fancy or matching. I’m cold and the house is not too far away, standing alone on the crest of a beachside ridge that overlooks a windswept shoreline.
My heart is racing and my face is cool with evapourating sweat. I feel so afraid, even in this calm place, but the fear is fading. My lungs are taking deeper breaths and my fingers are digging less sharply into my palms as the seconds go by.
It was all a dream. The dream is over. It was so terrible! Judging from the streaks that I wipe from my cheeks, I’ve been crying in my sleep.
The sun is shining and the grass burns a bright yellow in daylight. I run smiling without care with only one thing on my mind.
Swan.
I try not to think of my dream, or anything, and just run without inhibition to the only person in this chaotically depressed world who matters to me.
I run to the house, over the driveway, up the ramp, bang the front door open with my hip and slide across the tile floor into the kitchen. Swan is there, half-eaten microwave lasagne on the table, and she is on the phone. She gasps and smiles when she sees me.
“Never mind, officer, she’s just come in.” Then she hangs up.
“Where were you?” she shrieks, an element of joy bursting through the worry. I run to her and hug her, holding her tightly to my chest. Then I kiss her fully on the lips with all my love. No time to hold back, not after what I think I’ve seen.
“I missed you.” I tell her, crying. She looks at me oddly.
“You’re oddly affectionate.” she tells me. “You were completely blasted last night at the party. I’ve never seen anyone drink so much brandy. Where did you go?”
“I guess I passed out in the field. I had a terrible nightmare.” I think about that dream, and I think about the brandy. There’s a sense of déjà vu swirling around that word…but I don’t remember. It seems like a dream.
“The field?” she cries with an unbelieving tone.
“Yes, I know. But it’s okay because I’m here and you’re here and there’s nothing to worry about. You and I, back together again.”
“Harmony.” she smiles.
“Exactly. It’s all over.”
“It?”
“I dreamt that I died. I seemed so real to me.”
“That can happen sometimes, with alcohol.” comforts my sister. She wraps her arms around me and rubs my back with her hands. The feel of her fingers on my tense back is familiar and comforting.
“But it’s okay now. I realize because of it that I need to admit this one thing to you, to myself, and just follow it through before it’s too late. So I have a question on my mind.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you think you love me as much as I love you?”
“Yes, of course. I’m sure of it. You know how we are, out here all alone. We’re not just sisters, we’re-“
“Can you prove it to me?” I look at her mirror image. I put my fingers through her hair and straighten her short blond strands, pushing some away from her eyes and behind her ears. Her hazel eyes convey the same feelings as mine. We are so alike, she and I. Identical. Harmonious.
“Prove my love?” she asks, ignorant of or ignoring my foreshadowing arousal.
I kiss her again and thrust my hips into hers without hesitation, without even waiting for a cue or signal. She responds in kind, to my delight. I don’t answer her question and she doesn’t give any inclination that she cares. The answer now seems obvious.
It’s physical.
I don’t deny the feelings. I don’t let them pull me down into a quicksand that I can’t get out of. Resisting and repressing them only brings pain, makes them tug harder and pull deeper, makes their grip on me tighter until they break my spirit. I know that if I just give up to them and let them have their way, it can all be wonderful…
Relax and they will be gentle…
Swiftly as we start I have her pants off and I’m using my tongue to rub her pussy through her panties. I can feel the bump of her clit through the fabric and I can taste the personalized flavour of her silky lube. She’s moaning and breathing shallowly on the table. Soon though she wants something else and pushes me away, pulls me up with her hands under my shoulders so that we are eye to eye
Swan leans back and pulls me over her. She starts fingering herself under her wet panties and begs for a taste of herself off my lips, so I kiss her and pass her honey between our mouths. She breaks the exchange and raises her finger to my face, slick love dripping from her index and middle digits. She glosses my lips with the oils of her pussy until my lips are sparkled and shined. We trade each other’s tastes, feeling closer than ever for sharing fluids so anxiously.
I don’t know what comes over me; it’s too hard to explain. But vague memory, of shadowed men, swirling brandy and strange encounters in the dirt, drive me to be open and reckless. A terrible feeling pushes me to ravish her and hold her close, lest she be taken away from me. Swan is so much more precious after all that, even if it wasn’t real, even if it was just a revelation…
Faintly in my ears I hear the ringing of a finger upon the rim of a glass. It turns to music in my mind and the sound causes ripples in my crotch. The pitch of the sound grows higher, and the vibrations grow more intense to match the tone.
Swan massages my breasts with her hands and peels off her black latex suit, exposing her tits. With her zipper undone she works furiously at rubbing her slit through the black suit. I push on her until she’s flat on her back, her body glowing in the mahogany lustre of the polished table.
I stand up by the table while Swan waits with bated breath and spread thighs. I pull the clasp on my silver-steel suit collar and it responds to my personal touch. It opens for my hand and no one else’s.
I pull it open.
I open it all the way from collar to crotch and pull it off my body. Unable to wait, Swan sits up and sucks on my now naked breasts, using her fingers to slid under my suit and pull it down over my curves and ass. I tilt my hips one side at a time to help her shimmy it off and in very little time I have it bunched around my knees. Then we stop. The room sizzles and simmers.
I’m left looking at Swan’s hazel eyes as she sits on the edge of the table rubbing herself, my mirror sister wrapped in black latex like a glass doll, looking up at me with my own eyes full of stars and lust. She is everything I have. There is so much danger in the world, and the only way to survive is to always be together. Love demands sacrifice. I’ll give everything I have to stay with her.
We share breaths and tastes, groaning, fondling each other while she pulls me down to the table and lies beside me. She wraps her arms around me and latches on to my right nipple, pulling and biting gently and driving me crazy with lust. I rub my pussy furiously and lather its juices, feeling the tingle and rush of my nethers blushing and my hot inner-lips exposing themselves. I drive my fingers between those flushed lips at a furious pace, my thighs held captive by my own suit wrapped around my knees providing extra tension and excitement. It feels so good, so much better because of my sister’s closeness to me. She knows me so well. Each touch, each thrusting finger, every lick is…perfect.
She continues to kiss and grope me, moving from my mouth to my neck, down over my breasts, her fingers always lingering on my nipples, her tongue tickling my belly button, her hands leaving my body to pull the second-skin suit from my knees so that I can spread my thighs. She tugs at it and it falls around my ankles. I spread my legs as wide as they can go and wait for her, groaning and begging for her tongue’s touch. I need it!
She rubs her hand against my pussy and wets her palm with my oils, the feeling of her hand forcing a moan and a gasp from my throat. I stroke my hips and run my hands up my flanks, and I shiver. I squeeze my own breasts and dream of squeezing hers, and I bite my lip and whimper as the orgasmic tension climbs higher. Swan’s breasts are just as soft and lively in motion as mine are. I squirm for her on the table like a blond whore hooked on her two fingers.
It was all so dream like, so wonderful; the two of us up on the big round mahogany table as big as a bed, finally fulfilling wishes I’d disguised for so long. I wasn’t out to save the world by being a Hero; I was out to save Swan. I’m supposed to be a good sister, foremost, and sisters can do anything. Sex is a wonderful way to connect with each other. I look forward to cumming with her. When we cum together we will have done everything together.
I can imagine no closer closeness.
Swan tests my waters with two fingers and I embrace the shattered incestuous virginity of having her inside me. Her tongue follows, lapping at my folds with loving eagerness, her ass pointed in the air while she bent down like a cat at her dish. I snarl with temptation and smile at the same time, raunchy horniness crawling across my sweat soaked skin. Swan’s hair, as blond as mine, tickles my thighs as she eats me out. She plants her hands on my legs and pushes on them, spreading me wider, using her whole mouth to suck on and knead my clit.
It’s not enough, though. Nothing should get between us. In a moment of pause, I find myself peeling the black latex skin from her body and throwing it at the window with devil-may-care enthusiasm. She does the same with my silver-steel, tossing it away after pulling it from my ankles. Now completely naked, we mount up.
Flying sweat mists around our bodies as we slip and slide against one another, positioning ourselves into a sixty-nine with her on top. My eyes are drunk with the site of Swan’s pussy pressing against my chin. Her sexual scent coats my mouth, her oily arousal too much to contain within her that it spills out all over my face. I glisten with her juices and lick my lips. Sweetly delicious.
I’m sidetracked by the scent and nuances of her pussy. The way her lips are a little more flush than mine, or how her vulva is tinged by a shade a pink that mine is not. The flares and features that differ slightly between us captivate me. I’ve noticed that her nipples are not quite as large as my own, her areolas smaller but of darker shade, where mine are large, wide and faded. When she licks my breasts, she strains to get her mouth as wide open as she can to pleasure every ridge and bump of the dark discs that circle my nipples.
And I think to myself, with guidance from my incestuous enthusiasm, that these are not so important as differences as they are signs that we should have discovered these pleasures much longer ago. These things should never have been left as mysteries between us.
There are other differences that I would have never known had we not done this. Our variations go beyond our bodies, beyond nipples and lips. When she blushes with coy gratitude, she closes her eyes; I do not. She’s blindly eating me out now, swallowing what juices she can of mine that trickle into her mouth. When I cum, I close my mouth. When she comes, she opens hers. When she’s groaning and cumming she looks to the left, I to the right. Her gasps are at least an octave higher than mine.
So much! And to think I almost never would have known!
Yet despite all that, we blend together seamlessly, replica-sisters aided by two decades of sisterly love and familiarity. She has all the right touches. She is the most intimate mind-melting fuck I’ve ever had and it makes me hotter than Lucifer. I’ve never been so horny, so in heat. Never, never, ever, ever…
I gurgle on Swan’s gushing fluids as she groans, locks her thighs tightly around my head and comes on my face, much to the delight of our spectator sitting on the plush white couch with a glass of brandy. I feel the shockwaves of Swan’s orgasm sinking through her thighs into my cheeks. She shakes and goes limp on top of me, her tired breath on my pussy making me twitch with delight.
Then the fire fades, we unmount and lay exhausted beside each other, gently kissing from time to time and stroking our own breasts with satisfied grins. Our resting is punctured by short interludes of licking each other’s fingers and testing the difference between our tastes. We lie quietly as our bodies steam with sex.
We wait to cool down.
It might take a while.
A ringing interrupts my thinking. Chimaera is sitting on the white couch with her glass of brandy refilled. The glass is fuller now, and the music of higher pitch. The world-dream-reality shatters. I watch her tip the glass, watch the brandy swirling and surging in the snifter.
“And so she proclaims, loud and clear,” Chimaera sings, “selfishness is not a crime. And she tells me and accepts my hand, because she tells me.”
I smile at her and she smiles at me. Then she smiled at Swan and Swan smiled at her. Smiles all around. Panting, too.
“You did well, Swan, my dear girl. As I thought, you were the key to Shiloh’s secret. She ran to you after trauma, after giving up, after feeling guilt, and she betrayed herself for you. She even saved me from her Hero friends. I can see now, that the both of you are much more at home with me, as an item.”
Swan nuzzles against me and I feel warmer and happier than ever. And I have my hostess to thank for it. Love, incest…devotion; I feel for her as I feel for my sister. Loving enough to give myself to her, to the Chimaera’s service, I’m overcome by a sense of filial piety.
I am devoted beyond measure. I’ve crossed so many lines and places today, that I can go anywhere. I’ve crossed so many lines and been so many places today, that I don’t know where I am. I need a hand to hold. I feel ready to forget how to breathe and think. My brain is too chattering to understand; I need help. As I drown in the quicksand of my confusion I hold my sister’s hand and hold her closely. Chimaera is there right behind her, holding us both.
“Do you know where you are?” Chimaera inquires with interest in her eyes.
“I haven’t the faintest clue.”
I shake my head, showering her tabletop with a rain of sweat. This environment has changed so many times. Was I at home, or was I really in Chimaera’s penthouse? Perhaps I was in none of those places and I was actually asleep somewhere else. I kept expecting the scenery to change, for such is the life of a scout.
Former scout, I’ve been caught now.
I try to explain things to her.
“I saw you in my dream. But my dream was in so many places. I no longer know where I belong. The world seems far away and so…unreal.”
The words come faster than I can think of them, as if by automatic.
“The world. Hardly a priority, is it?” Chimaera answers. “Playing in the mud helps to straighten one’s priorities, I think. Who to love, who to ask for help, and whose hand to hold.”
My heart jumps…Swan stirs in slumber beside me. I feel fluttery-wild-exhilarated in my belly.
Chimaera puts her heels up on the table and leans back, her legs spread wide so that I can see right up her skirt.
“Where you are doesn’t matter my pet girl. What’s important is; do you know where you should be?” she remarks.
I nod my head. I belong with Swan. Where she goes, I go. I keep hoping for Chimaera to sate my arousal and lift the veil of confusion. “When does the dream end?” I ask meekly.
“Never. Right now. It doesn’t matter. But first; you have something that belongs to me.”
I get up from the table and walk to the window. My silver-steel lies in a heap on the floor. It shines in the sunlight. My naked body glistens with cum and sweat. I feel beautiful, covered with droplets of pearly diamonds. I feel so completely blown away. I grab my old silver-steel up from the floor, fold it, and take to its owner.
“I’m going to make you a black suit just like your sister’s.” Chimaera clarifies as she takes her suit, placing it on the couch cushion next to her. “You two will be the same again, not to worry. I’ll need to teach you some things and you’ll need to listen to my words, but you will see in the end. You will both be black and blond; my Black Wyches.”
I watch the villainess smile as I sink to all fours. I feel so at home on the ground. I see up her skirt where her naked pussy is glistening between her thighs in the light of the windows. She twirls a thong on her finger and holds her drink in her other hand, the alcohol churning in the glass in hypnotic fashion. It’s beautiful. I know exactly where I am supposed to be, now. It draws me forward. I place my head between her thighs.
“You see my point of view, Shiloh? I am not a destroyer. I bring harmony. In a world that is falling apart and crumbling to dust, harmony can only be found when the decline reaches an end. Everything turns to dirt and dust in the end, even people. Even you.”
She snags me and pulls me down in the mud. The mud is wonderful. I’m so dirty. I’m dirt.
I wake up with Swan hovering over me, drizzling oil on my tits and rubbing it in. Time to get dressed.
Swan’s oily body slips against my back as I sit up. She hugs me from behind and smears the lube on my body, using her fingers to massage and knead the oil into my skin. I look over my shoulder at her body glowing in sunshine, swirling wisps of cloud causing shadows and shades of grey to dance playfully across her back. Her fit athletic body is gorgeous in sunlight. I’m happy because I look just as good as that, and I love that she feels the same for me as I feel for her.
Reflected light accents all the right curves where my sister’s body slopes and bulges. Shadows provide definition to the relief of her soft breasts. They’re so round and young, firm to the touch. I handle them, caress them with my hands, and run circles around her nipples with my finger. There is nothing quite like waking up beside your sister, someone you love…someone you have no secrets from. We’ve explored each other’s bodies in and out a hundred times over. It never gets old.
There’s a tub for us to dip into in the morning, but we enjoy the more involved touch of hands-on oiling. I shift off my bottom and lay on my chest, ass pointed up, so that I can feel Swan’s long nails scoring the cheeks of my behind.
She pulls the string of beads from my ass, left there from the good times of last night, so that I’d have that pop-pop-pop feeling of open-close anal satisfaction to wake up to. Swan spreads the oil onto my thighs, down my legs and towards my feet. Soon she is done and the sheets are stained and in need of a wash. No time for that though, the Wyches need to get dressed.
Our greased legs slide easily into our plasteel-latex power suits. My skin tingles as the second skin begins to clean me after a sweaty night of lust and exhaustion. We help each other align everything in the right way, pushing the duel control rods built within the suit crotches into our pleasure points.
Here, more differences are found between us. But variation is good for harmony since it proves that we know every divergent feature of the other and that we keep no secrets. Secrets are bad for harmony; we keep no secrets from Mistress and do as we are told. Knowing these things forges unbreakable connection.
I push the control rods into my sister; she asks for anal first. She’s more of a pussy girl, and she likes that one done last and done slowly so that she can savour it. I prefer anal myself; I just love the way my sister pushes that one inside of me. At first she pushes gently, thrusting the tip of the dong in and out, slowly and quickly, until I start to loosen up. After that, she’s always sure to press hard and pop it in quickly. I love that. It gives me the gripping sense of obedience that I crave from my ass yielding to the phallus’ shape and will.
I slip my oiled arms into the sleeves, pull the obsidian-latex body suit over my shoulders, and clasp the collar around my neck. As I pull it up and tighten it around my body, I feel it cup my pussy firmly and form the rousing camel-toe that looks as sexy as I feel.
Harmony is important, and we have a preset routine for dressing each morning. Every step is memorized, every movement stereotyped and precise.
We each dress the other; Swan helps my breasts into place with her firm hands and I do the same for her. We make sure our bosoms are bunched high on our chests for projection, as Mistress enjoys it that way. The support of our obsidian-latex suits ensure that our breasts always look ripe with pointed nipples.
I feel a buzzing inside of me. Vibrations ripple through my pussy and ass as we finish zipping each other up. We run our hands through each other’s blond hair to get rid of the bed-head. Then we hold hands and find the door together. As we leave I feel the cleansing tingle of the suit in action, and it makes me wet.
More humming and buzzing. We grab each other tightly as orgasms pull us to the floor. I feel myself leaking into my suit, my knees breaking with bliss as they give out from the raw sexual pulsing of the control rods inside me.
Mistress calls for us.
Madam Kistulot, you were more than priceless. Thanks.
©2005 mike z.
This story should not be reposted outside the EMCSA without permission. If you steal this work, karma will prevail, and you will find many rusty nails in your future.