One In The Same

§§§

The following Friday had been leaden and coolly overcast, then alternately heaving and steadily raining throughout the afternoon, and would do so all that evening, when Maggie dialed the downstairs studio number: 

“Hey love …” he answered. 
“Hey baby, I’m calling from your place. You coming up soon?”
“Yeah. Anything on cable?”
“I haven’t checked. Ten minutes?”
“See ya then.”

Maggie closed the phone and opened a window. She took a last look through the video camera’s view glass, made sure the sound was on, and poured herself some wine. She preemptively poured a tall scotch & ice for George. She took several lengthy drinks from her glass, lit a cigarette, and refilled. She left George’s whiskey at the bar and carried her own drink across the room to the bookcase that stood directly facing the front door fifteen feet away. She placed her glass on a shelf beside a pill bottle and, facing the book bindings, she stood with her back to the front door, as relaxed as she could manage, wearing only the tiny blue bikini and earrings from the swimwear layout, pensively inspecting her fingernails, sometimes clenching her fists, and listening to her heartbeat kick at her ribs while a cool scent of rain rode a clean breeze past the curtains from across the room and throughout. She couldn’t find the other ring, her keepsake, but she had combed cocoanut bath oil through her hair. 

Conceding the evening’s only consciously contrived gesture, when she heard the door finally open behind her she deliberately paused for one long moment to allow for George’s mind to register the presence of his sister’s scrumptious, blue-bottomed near-nakedness – and all it implied she now knew – before evenly looking over her shoulder and meeting the expression of abject dismay in his eyes. However, in his desolation Maggie saw her brother ill with instinct and desire, sick with a singularly and ferociously depraved and wretched lust for her that abruptly whetted her crotch and very nearly buckled her knees from beneath her.

“Come here, baby” she said gently and turned back towards the bookcase.

George stood numb in the doorway for a short eternity before an astonishingly indecent arousal brought him around and he crossed the floor to her and stood at her bare back, firmly resting his hands on her hips, and she smiled quietly to herself. He drew Maggie’s yummy butt against the fat erection unfurling within his jeans and she in turn gave her ass a friendly little wiggle. She turned inside his embrace to face him and unabashedly grinned up at him. They kissed once, tenderly, before she pulled away and reached back for the pill bottle on the bookshelf behind her. She shook out two 50 mg doses of Viagra and put the pills to George’s lips.

“Take these; your drink `s on the bar. We’ve a long night ahead of us.”

§§§

A half-hour later George stood naked before her, very close and still, freshly showered and again in the main room. His balls hung from him like powder kegs. He waited while Maggie fondled him, sizing him up; his cock in her hand pointed well beyond just erect – now an angry and achingly swollen and purplish tool of 10¼ inches, a broad and gnarled menace as big around as her arm and with the single-minded disembodiment of a wrench. He had cut back his pubic hair to bristles. He put his hands to her shoulders and nudged her to move to her knees.

“Not just yet. Have a seat.” 

She led him by his appendage over to the giant recliner and straddled his lap, she seated upright and facing him square, the moist crotch of her bikini all that separated her vagina from direct contact with the length and breadth of his shaft. Her tan had paled almost entirely since last summer, but before she could prompt him he was already affectionately smoothing his palms along the faint flesh of her thighs. As well adoring, she took his face in her hands.

“I want us to be lovers” she began.

“Okay” he agreed grandly, taking a sip of his already second scotch from his right and a draft from a Marlboro from his left. He was feeling much better.

“Listen,” she said, taking the cigarette from his fingers and crushing it out. She leaned forward and kissed his lips. “I’m in love with you; and you’re in love with me. I know this”.

Now serious, he admitted “Yes, I am in love with you, Maggie.” So far, so good.

She studied his eyes, then said “What do you want?” her nipples as hard as glass marbles through her bikini top. From her tote bag beside the recliner, she brought out and showed him the swimwear portrait of herself.

Escaping her scrutiny, he looked long at the fantasy photograph and said, somewhat honestly, “I want you …inside you, to make love to you gently and lovingly forever.” 

‘Amen’, she almost laughed at him, but she just smiled, and content with his prose, George renewed his caress of her thighs. He took her left breast in his hand and brushed a thumb across her nipple, a small rock.

“I love you so much, George” she said genuinely, a little sadly.

“I love you too, Maggie” George said, also genuinely, emphatically.

Maggie reached back into the bag and retrieved the first two videocassettes and held them up one after the other, their titles labeled in bold print and unmistakably legible at a glance. The How-To video she dismissively left downstairs.

“Read these to me – aloud, sweetheart” she softly demanded. George swallowed, a gulp.

“’Anal Blondes’” and Maggie offered an unmindful toss of her pretty head, “…and ‘Poop-Chute Cuties’” George said, hoarse, and she felt a twitch of his cock against her glove, her satin astride his steel-incarnate.

“Tell me what you want, Georgie” unsmiling but her eyes shining delightedly.

“Maggie, I do love you …” he said, beseeching, acknowledging the sound he’d heard her make the last time, when they were sixteen, before he quite knew what he was doing or how to do it – but did anyway – and she hadn’t quite not screamed when he did.

Maggie withdrew from the bag the last torment, the tube of lubricant, and held it a little too closely to his face.

“Read the label to me, baby.”

“’Pipe Grease’” he coughed.

“And …?” she persisted.

“’Petroleum-Based Anal Lubricant.’”

“Tell me what you want, baby” the crotch of her bikini slick, sopping, her vagina having graduated to cunt. Unmercifully, smiling knowingly, she answered for him:

“You want to buttfuck me” she purred to him in a taunting little singsong, “ – you want to sodomize your own sister” she sang quietly, leaning closer to his face and kissing him. George leaned forward as if to return her buss and slid his hands from her thighs to her buttocks, and massaging her tush divided wide, he swiftly slipped his hand under the waistband of her bikini and with his forefinger gave her anus a thick dry gouge, a vengeful little stab at her pucker. Maggie started sharply and slammed the heels of her hands against his chest, banging him back into his seat. He watched her eyes and caught a spark of searing lust and fury within her, a white-hot desire of which he thought only himself capable. She leaned in close again, her breathing ragged and clipped, panting. He could smell her control: smoke and soap, wrath and arousal.

“Don’t rape me before we’re ready” she distinctly threatened, then just as suddenly softened. George carefully, cautiously kissed her and Maggie rejoined with a smile, foxy.

“You do want to hurt me” she ventured.

“No. The lubricant would make it easier” reassuring himself. 

“You lie. The grease would make it easier, better, for you” she stressed sweetly, “and you bought oil-based, at that” challenging him with what he knew to be her irrefutable insight, “because you want a long, thorough ride, merciless and leaving nothing to our imaginations.” Maggie leaned in very close and put her lips to his ear, still not wanting, after all these years, to meet his eyes when she stated their only one, really, terrible truth; she spoke to him in a whisper so soft as to be just this side of a private thought:

“I think you kinda liked it that I bled some” she breathed, and held her face to the side of her brother’s, waiting until the moment passed when she thought they could both bear to look at each other again. 

George was silent, his truths indefensible.

“I know you don’t want to ‘gently, lovingly ease your engorged member through my dainty ideal, my most teasing breech’” she said, now wistfully, famously regaining her composure and mocking his mollifying, ostensibly considerate, courteous depiction of ‘blasting’ her ass. “I watched the tapes, Georgie; I know you want to buttfuck me – painfully and unconscionably, ferociously and forever – and I want you (too or to?, he thought, pouncing on this crucial point; what did she just say?)” George smiled. “I want to ride you, Georgie – like that, even – as long & often as you like” she allowed, “ – tonight we’ll mean it.” It was too late for coy.

“Prescription-strength sodomy” he mused, “ – your idea. Blush for me, Margaret.”

Ignoring him, “We only get one chance at a first time – you’re still too big, even bigger, and I’m as good as brand new since then …we’ll set a timer; an hour should be forever enough, for tonight anyway” she said, disguised as if an afterthought, feigning calm. She took George’s hand between her own, first kissing then wetly sucking his middle finger. She brought his hand around her waist and again down the back of her swimsuit and between her cheeks, encouraging his forefinger to salve her anus with her saliva. Drawing his hand back out, she then placed the tip of that same middle finger between his lips. 

“Wound me well, my love” she whispered. “Poke me, Georgie; I’ll help.”

Maggie dismounted George’s lap, and without a word or a glance back she walked over to the L-shaped couch and knelt wide in its corner, setting the lubricant to one side and resting her forearms on the sofa back, her rounded backside lurid and pouting beneath the blue swim panties, her blonde head bowed and, again, absently inspecting her nails, waiting. George came up behind her and held her by the hips, motioning her, feeling his grip. He ran his palms up and down the sides of her waist and ribs, massaging her entire upper and lower back and she parted her knees farther on the sofa seat, relaxing, casually bracing. George pulled Maggie’s shoulders upright to his chest and embraced her, unfastened her swim bra and, slipping the string straps off her shoulders and removing the garment altogether, he kneaded, hefted and caressed her fresh breasts a pound apiece, pointed and pillowy, each half-again more than his hands could hold, and alternately petted her bare midriff. He slipped a finger down the steamy front of her swim panties and touched and toyed with her clitoris, kissing her throat and shoulders and the fragrance of her hair and scalp intoxicating and wafting about his mind and she swallowed, a gulp, and moaned and writhed within his hug. He hooked his thumbs in her waistband and Maggie leaned forward again against the sofa back and scooted her knees together. George reverently disrobed her of the swim panties and laid them aside. She reassumed the position and kneeling behind her, he held her firmly by her hips and felt her body tense, clutch.