Mandi felt haunted and alone. Almost six weeks had passed since her mom had gone to Singapore for work with the State Department. Her father had thrown himself into his work on the Navy base. Anne had abandoned her; that was the true, deep pain. She knew everything was coming apart. She had tried to keep things together, but she felt herself cracking inside. Boys at school sensed her vulnerability, tried to take her on dates, which were fun at the start, but each ended in disaster when she refused to have sex. She stared at the letter in her hand, a teacher’s request for a conference with her parents regarding the significant decline in Mandi’s school performance and attendance.
Anne stood on the sidewalk, looking at the house. She sighed, thinking about New York as she unlocked the door.
“Anyone home?” she shouted. No reply. She wheeled her bag to her room, lifted it onto the bed, and went to the kitchen to swipe one of Dad’s beers. She twisted the top off a Landshark and headed to her room to unpack when she heard—something. Anne looked in the living room, and there, wrapped in a blanket, she saw her sister blankly staring at a letter.
“Hey, kiddo.” No response from her little sister.
Anne slid onto the couch next to her, gently taking the letter and scanning it. Mandi was a mess. Hair stringy, and Lord, when was the last time she had showered? Anne gently lifted her face by the chin, concerned at the dead eyes in her sister’s face. With the quickness of a rattlesnake striking, Mandi’s arms were around Anne’s neck, squeezing so hard Anne thought something might break. Mandi was sobbing, the shoulder of Anne’s shirt already soaked. She patted her baby sister on the back, cooing softly. After several minutes, Mandi’s death grip loosened. Anne had already thought out a strategy.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” She disentangled herself.
Anne detoured by the bar, grabbed a bottle of Patron, and headed toward her parents’ master bath. She filled the garden tub, putting the tequila on the built-in shelf. Anne went into the living room and dragged her sister to the bath. Mandi was completely passive as her older sister stripped her and got her into the tub. Mandi sat essentially catatonic. Anne sighed and stripped off her own clothes, sliding in behind Mandi.
Anne started washing her sister’s back, then sides and arms. As if the washcloth were removing her malaise, Mandi started to respond. Anne put pressure on Mandi’s shoulders, and the girl turned around. Slowly, Anne lifted a leg, soaping the foot, which elicited a giggle. She washed the hairy leg, then repeated on the other.
Anne washed Mandi’s face, neck, and shoulders. As soon as the washcloth swept across her breast, Mandi’s nipples went from flat to rock hard. A deep moan escaped, accompanied by an even deeper sob. Anne leaned in, hugging and comforting. She handed the washcloth to her sister, who finished washing up mechanically.
Anne studied her sister; she had lost several pounds in just the few weeks she had been gone. Dark circles under hollow eyes. Her heart was breaking as she wondered what had happened. Anne pulled the plug and let the water drain, then turned the shower on so they both could wash and rinse their hair. Mandi made to step out, but Anne switched the water from the shower to the tub, resealing the drain. She turned the cold water almost completely off and activated the jets, turning the tub into a spa.
They sat facing each other as close as they could get. Anne uncapped the tequila, took a swallow, and handed it to Mandi, who tilted it and guzzled.
“Whoa!” Anne cried out, taking the Patron away.
She took another belt, then let Mandi have another sip. They sat in silence, the hot water bubbling around them.
Mandi’s eyes grew hard. “You left me.”
Anne nodded in silent acknowledgement, offering the tequila bottle. As Mandi took another drink, Anne stroked the side of her face.
“I would have stayed if I knew you needed me.”
“I always need you!” The reply was not quite a shriek.
“Tell me.”
The tears flowed. Followed by the words. Anne’s guts tightened as Mandi described it all: the awakened sexual urges. Masturbating several times a day, fixated on her own father. Tormented brown eyes locked with Anne’s.
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME???”
Anne gathered her in her arms, soothing her.
“Nothing, sis. You are perfectly fine.” Taking a deep breath, Anne began.
After I lost my virginity, I had the same feelings. Though I was fixated on Mom more than Dad.”
Ste stroked her sister’s face. “You look like Mom, you know. When you see her, you may well be looking at yourself 20 years from now. I even spent a few months peeking at her, finding excuses to be with her when she changed.”
The water grew cold, and Anne stopped the jets and let it drain. They continued to talk, the tension releasing from Mandi. Wrapped in a towel, she shuffled off to her bedroom. Anne gathered clothes and the bottle, dumping the former into her hamper and setting the latter on her nightstand. She moved the suitcase onto the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, drying her hair.
She went next door, where Mandi sat sullenly. As soon as she came into the room, Mandi came to her, arms squeezing. She heard Mandi’s stomach gurgle. She pulled Mandi’s arms down, holding her hands.
“Why don’t you dry your hair and come to the kitchen. I’ll make something to eat.”
“Pancakes.”
Anne smiled at Mandi’s suggestion. “Your favorite. I’ll see if I can’t scrounge some banana or chocolate chips too.”
Mandi gave her a wan smile. Anne gave her a peck on the lips and headed to the kitchen. She found both and had 2 bowls of batter, one banana, and one chocolate chip. Mandi shuffled in the kitchen, robe wide open, half-heartedly drying her hair.
“Which do you want? Banana? Chocolate chip?”
“Both.” The reply was almost childlike.
Anne smiled, mixed the bowls together, and dropped 6 ladles on the griddle. As soon as they were down, she ran from the kitchen, returning with a hairbrush. She checked the cakes, flipped them, and said, “There’s more to it than just a fantasy about Dad.” She was met with silence.
She checked the pancakes and plated them, 4 for Mandi and 2 for herself. She turned off the griddle, wiped it with a damp towel, and served her sister. Mandi picked at them.
“You’re going to hurt my feelings if you don’t at least try them.”
Mandi took a bite, then another. Before Anne finished one, Mandi’s plate was clean. Anne rose, taking the plates, rinsing them, then stood behind Mandi, who was swaying in the chair.
“Feeling the booze, are we?”
Mandi nodded in agreement.
Anne picked up the brush, working tangles out of Mandi’s hair. Mandi moaned.
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. Feels…nice.”
She swayed, and Anne caught her and helped her to bed. Mandi pulled away, letting her robe drop. “Am I pretty?” she swayed and sat on the bed.
“Pretty drunk. Always beautiful.”
Mandi lay down, pulling Anne with her. She snuggled into Anne, her arms burrowing into her robe. Anne held her, stroking her hair. She felt the moment Mandi fell asleep, but before she could get up, sleep took her too.
Jim Lancashire opened the door, calling softly, “Amanda?” There was no reply. He was tired, bone tired. Tired of Sally being in Singapore. Tired of trying to distract himself with work. He walked down the hall. Anne’s door was open, and he saw her luggage, but the room was empty. He looked in Mandi’s room and froze. Anne was lying on the bed, her long red hair flowing over the side of the bed. Her robe had opened, revealing a long leg wrapped around another woman, revealing the firm cheek of her ass.
He took a step, just as Mandi rolled on her back. His breath caught, and his heart hammered. For a second, he saw his wife, albeit decades ago. He realized he was looking at Mandi. His eyes took her in, the same long legs, the roundness of hips and shoulders. Her 34 B breasts, capped with the same puffy nipples her mother had before they married and had children.
STOP IT! THEY ARE YOUR KIDS!! He closed his eyes, trying to force the image from his mind. He retreated, his back against the wall outside the door. He felt both aroused and disgusted with himself. He retired to his bedroom. He tried to sleep despite fitful dreams about his daughters, both naked together.
He managed to get 4 hours and woke. He was hard, which happened a lot when his wife was away, but deep inside, he knew why his cock was like steel. He took a shower, on the cold side, but it wasn’t helping. He soaped up his cock and began to masturbate. His imagination flipped through images of his favorite porn actresses as he fisted the shaft of his cock, careful to avoid getting soap in his pee hole. He finally settled on a scene where two young ladies took turns sucking off a middle-aged man, which caused a fire to rage from his overloaded balls up to the swollen head of his dick.
His jaw dropped, and he leaned one arm against the wall, paralyzed except for his hand jacking himself off and the thick gobs of semen spurting out of his cock onto the shower door. In his mind, the faces of the porn actresses were replaced by the faces of his daughters, and he covered them with his cum. He dressed hurriedly but lacked the strength to not take another look at his naked daughter.
Anne woke. Mandi was not in bed. She got up, used the restroom, and found Mandi sitting naked on her bed.
“Was it true? You want Mommy?”
Anne nodded slowly, knowing she was on a slippery slope.
“And you think she’s pretty?”
Another nod.
Mandi’s voice was a soft whisper. “And me?”
Anne sat next to her. “Beautiful, even if you don’t see it.”
“I’m ugly inside.”
Anne turned her face, staring into her eyes.
“Don’t ever say that again. There is no part of you I would not trade for.”
“Even wanting to… You know… Dad?”
Anne sighed. “You just need to lose your cherry,” she noted with a smirk.
“Unless you already did.” She saw the blush. “To WHO?”
Mandi held up the pink vibrator. “Bob.” She held it out. “Thanks.”
Anne pushed her hand down. “I gave it to you.” A small smile on Anne’s lips.
Amanda’s voice was hoarse, low. “You said you fantasized about Mom and Dad—” the last word catching in her throat. “Have you ever thought about me?”
“All the time.” Anne placed her lips on her sister’s. She had meant it to be chaste, a comfort.
Mandi threw herself at her sister, pulling her down. She straddled the redhead, who could feel wet heat from Mandi’s body searing into the skin of her stomach. She stared down at Anne. Slowly, deliberately, Mandi lowered her lips to Anne’s. Their mouths opened, and with a groan, each surrendered to the heat of the moment.
Hands slid across damp bodies, nails scratching. Teeth nipping at feminine flesh. Mandi bit her way down Anne’s body, plunging her tongue into Anne’s pussy, nose in trimmed red curls. It was the first time Mandi had had sex. She did what she had read and seen in porn and overheard in locker rooms. She was clumsy and rough, and Anne’s heart raced at what her sister was doing.
Fuck, she’s good. Anne grabbed her sister’s head, guiding her, her voice strained as she taught, fighting the climax beginning to build. Her sister’s insistent passion was too much, and Anne felt it begin in the pit of her stomach. Mandi slid her fingers inside her, and either knowing where or by accident, rubbed her fingers on her G-spot. Annecame, her back coming off the bed as she gave a strangled scream. Mandi came up, her breath smelling like an aroused woman. Anne tasted herself on her sister’s lips. With silent agreement, Anne returned the favor, kissing her way to Mandi’s unruly bush.
I need to teach her to trim this shit, Anne thought as her tongue licked at her sister’s quim. She had Mandi’s body as tight and humming as a car engine when she spotted the vibe. She reached for it.
Mandi felt alive for the first time in weeks as she watched her sister’s orgasm, shaking her body. The tiniest shadow of guilt and shame for the incestuous act was there, but not as prevalent as the joy and desire. I did that. She felt like Anne loved her, NEEDED her. She felt something unlock inside, a glorious feeling of lust, of joy, the ineffable knowledge that she was a sexy, desirable woman at last.
I love the feel of her lips on me. Am I really a lesbian? Is that why thinking about Daddy feels dirty? Mandi’s body shuddered as the familiar warmth flowed into every cell in her body. She gasped as Anne’s tongue touched her clit, wanting more. She closed her eyes as Anne parted her soft folds. Something hard rubbed the outside of her slit. Hard and round. Anne had the vibe teasing her slit.
“You want this?” Anne teased.
Mandi nodded. “Yes, please.”
Anne slowly pushed the gleaming vibe halfway in and stopped. She planted kisses all along her thigh.
Mandi’s hips bucked slowly, trying to get more of the vibe.
“Deeper, please, deeper.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Anne teased, barely scratching Mandi’s clit with her nail.
“God. Fuck me already.”
“Sorry, Mandi. You have to say it.”
“Say WHAT?” Mandi groaned, her frustration growing.
Anne softly kissed Mandi’s clit. “You know what I want you to say.”
“Please, Anne, fuck me,” Mandi begged.
“Sorry, honey. That’s not what you need to say.”
Mandi’s hips stopped churning. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“Fuck me, Anne. Fuck me like Daddy would.”
Anne started slowly sliding the vibe deeper, a slow, loving rhythm. Sparks were turning to embers running the length of her body.
“Is that what you want, little sis?” Anne was hoarse.
Mandi screwed her eyes tight. “More,” her voice breathy
Anne kept the same pace.
“More … Daddy, please.”
Anne smirked and began shoving it harder and deeper. ‘Uuunnghhh,’ a groan from Mandi, her pelvis swirling. The embers were a fire, spreading from her spine through her body. Her pussy was on fire, nipples white hot. Anne’s lips kissed each other, her moan a deep growl like a wakening tiger. Anne’s whisper was soft.
“Tell me… tell DAD what you need.”
Mandi’s body shuddered; she babbled. She felt like a phoenix, fire exploding from every pore.
“Please, Daddy… fuck me. Fuck me deep and hard. Make me yours. I love you! Fuck me!”
Anne gave her sister what she needed. As ecstasy burned through her sister’s body, Anne saw it all in her face: guilt, shame, disgust, all giving way to the look of pure exultation. She gasped as Mandi gained a look of surety that she had made a decision. Then she exploded.
Anne did something to the vibrator. Mandi was unaware of what it was, but the angle changed and bumped the roof of her pussy. Three strong thrusts later, she gasped in joy. To say she was having an orgasm would be like comparing a hurricane to a spring shower. Fire, electricity, an acid burn, and surges of euphoria seized her in every extremity, every organ, everywhere all at once. Her body convulsed, very much like the seizures you see in medical shows on TV, even with a bit of foam at the corner of her mouth. Shoulders and ass alternated, bouncing her body off the bed. Anne winced at the shriek, wondering if a neighbor was picking up the phone to dial 9-1-1. She worried as the convulsive orgasm drew out past 10-15 seconds. She curled into a ball, then snapped out straight, fingers and toes splaying, rigid as a board, screamed, and collapsed. The scream rang in Anne’s ears:
“Cumming, Daddieeeeeee!”
Anne sidled up and cuddled her sister, who continued to shake. Anne felt tears on her shoulder. She pushed Mandi’s shoulder, easing her onto the mattress. Anne saw the tears, saw the smile.
“I’m so fucked up, sis. I need to fuck him.” Mandi drifted off to sleep.
