“We’re going. There are pizzas in the freezer and please clean up after yourselves this time. I don’t want to come home to a sink full of dishes again.”

There was mumbled acknowledgement from within the house and their Mom sighed as she closed front door behind her, knowing full well that left up to two teenagers that would never happen and moments later the sound of the engine firing up came in from outside. The gearbox whirred as the car reversed out of the driveway and then the engine became distant as it headed further on down the street until it faded out completely.

Her brother was sat on the armchair when she walked in, plonking herself on the arm next to him and watching as he played whatever it was he was playing hooked up to the TV. When asked what she wanted she said she was bored and did not like being upstairs on her own.

She watched him for a little longer and then asked if he was hungry. When he said he was she offered to make tea if he would clean up. He told her that was fair and she scuttled off to the kitchen. She brought it out to him half an hour later and they ate while watching some trash on the TV. There was little on and they spoke desultory about nothing in particular.

Afterwards he washed up while she watched something on the TV and then joined her with a drink. They spent the next few minutes flicking through channels before deciding nothing was on. He pulled up the box sets on Prime but she shot down everything from X-Files to Bosch with the same “I don’t really fancy that” tone. In turn she floated the idea of a film and he mumbled something that sounded like an “OK” and she headed over to the DVD cabinet in the corner. As she read out title after title from Hitchcock and Spielberg, Cameron and Scorsese, Tarantino and Coraci he rejected each one as either “too girly” or “too boring” or “too long” or “not in the mood” and his sister grew increasingly frustrated.

“Well what do you want to do, asshole?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “It’s just one of those nights isn’t it!”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t know what I want to do, I just know I want to do something.”

That was the crux of it. He said; “Sounds about right. Got to love sociable friends, right?”

She laughed. “Preach that.” Then, “Guess this explains why we’re both single though. We’re not much better. Left alone for a few hours and we can’t even entertain ourselves.”

Her brother laughed. “Truth. I’d quite like to be entertained by someone right now to be honest. Or would that be, do someone rather than something?”

She looked up at him over the case of a The Burbs DVD. “Hmm.”

She read out a few more titles and he dismissed them quickly. When she looked back over he wasn’t even paying attention to her. His eyes were rooted to his phone and she stood, hands on her hips, glaring at him. She made up the name of a film and he gave her the same dismissive one word shutdown. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I boring you?”

“When don’t you?” he said, eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Dick,” she said, launching an empty case towards his head. It missed, and from his lack of reaction she didn’t even think he noticed.

What happened next was out of pure boredom and frustration.

“That’s a bit ru—“ he went to say. The words were lost though and he grunted aloud as two hands from behind him shoved him clean off the chair and he landed in a heap on the floor, his phone skidding off under the table. Her uncontrolled laughing greeted him from behind the chair and he rolled himself over to see her laughing at him.

“You prick,” he said, on his back, laughing. “Not cool.” He extended his arm towards her and waved it impatiently. “Well help me up won’t you?”

She walked over to him. “Pick a film then, doofus.”

She took his hand, leaned over started to hoist him up. When she was off balance he yanked her arm into him and lifted up his leg so she fell directly towards him. He was already laughing when she hit the floor next to him. She let out an expletive and then hit him hard with her elbow. He laughed again and rolled away from her reach before sitting up. She too was getting up and she reached over to the chair and slapped him right across the face with one of the cushions. She put more behind it than he expected because the force knocked him completely off balance. He put out his hands to stop him falling back onto the floor, and when he looked back towards her she was on him, diving onto his back and using her hands to tickle him wherever she could. He jumped and heard himself cackling like a girl. His hands found her side and he concurrently jabbed his fingers into each side, causing her to flinch and recoil. She screamed out part in laughter, part in pain, and tried to get off him only to find herself trapped by his arms.

With nowhere to know she retaliated the only way she could, ticking him harder and faster and their bodies writhed around on the floor for a few minutes as each one tried to gain the upper hand. He caught her again with a double jab to the side and she tried to jump stand to get away, he came with her and his weight offset her balance and they both fell back to the floor, laughing. She hit first, and pulled with him her as his body fell on top of her.

Out of breath they lay there on the carpet, a tangle of legs and arms with his face buried in the carpet laughing into the fibres. He could feel her laughing underneath him, and they giggled and heaved back breath into their bodies before the inevitable round two.

“You’re such an asshole,” he laughed.

“Yeah, well you cheat,” she said back. “Side shots are totally out of bounds.”

Her chest heaved up and down beneath him. He was conscious now that his groin was centred on hers, and in thinking this he felt blood starting to surge towards it in a way that made it start to grow. He pushed himself up onto his arms and looked up, his face barely an inch away from his sisters. She was looking at him the same way he was looking at her, trying to figure the other one out. Her lips were slightly parted as she took in air. There was colour in her face and the beginning of sweat on her forehead. He glanced down to the junction of their bodies, where his joggers clad groin rested against her pelvis underneath her leggings. She traced his eyes and then met his gaze. For a second they just lay in that position, taking breath and computing, and then he felt her bump her pelvis against his surge – which by now she must have been able to feel – and a breath escaped her parted lips.

He started to move himself and he scraped his groin against her pelvis, rather accidentally, before trying to get up. He felt another breath leave her lips, the warm air on his chin as he pulled himself off her. She found her arms again and brought them to his armpits, as if to prevent this, tickling him with lightening speed and causing him to grunt aloud and fall back onto her. She laughed again, and he joined her, his face this time on her shoulder. He breathed warm air onto the side of her neck and gathered himself. His member was now fully erect and she bumped her pelvis a second time into him.
He pulled himself back up and looked into her eyes, laughing, “cut it out, would you.”

She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth and said, her voice was barely audible and shaking with a sort of nervousness, “make me.”

Make me. What did that even mean? Their faces were locked onto each other, groins pressed together and she had just encouraged him to make her stop ticking him. He looked at her for a second, searching her blank face for a read. The words echoed around the silence of the room, and stirred something within him. Had his sister just teased him in that way? It was one of those choice phrases that were entirely designed to bump up tensions in moments like this. Had she meant it as it sounded? That it was his sister, someone he had shared the womb with less than two decades ago, did not compute to him in that moment. There was no input from his rational mind that would explain what happened next. Later, they would realise, neither of them would be able to explain what happened next but with their faces still locked in their gaze he leant in and kissed her. It was not a long, passionate kiss but it was enough of one for it not to be a mistake. There was a moment where he thought she was hesitant but all hesitation seemed to be dispelled when he felt her kissing back.

He recoiled when his rational mind imparted its dictum and he broke the moment and pulled back, just staring at her with wide eyes. She did not respond and just looked at him blankly, searching his face with those eyes that revealed nothing. His heart was thumping.

“I’m sorr—“ he went to say but she rose her back to meet him and kissed him lightly and then placed her finger over his lips and said, “don’t.”

She kissed him again and he fell back with her to the floor. They kissed lightly and gently for a few moments and then she broke it off, taking in air as he did, and then said, “don’t say anything.”

Her lips found his, mouth slightly parted and they kissed again. Their tongues flirted heavily, tips daring each other to progress. His hand was on her side, her hand coming around to his hairline, fingers moving through to his scalp. They broke for air, his forehead resting against hers, and they expelled hot air between each other. Their eyes flirted but did not make full contact and then he restarted this forbidden dance and their kissing resumed.

Their tongues entered the foray and they made out like school kids in the back of a truck on a first date. The air around them became warm, they were sweating, and rationality was a far cry away. One of his hands was on her side just above her hip, at the gap between her top and her leggings and he could feel the coolness of her skin under his touch. Her free hand came around him to the small of his back and then down, onto his ass so that he was held in place. As she held him there he started to grind his body into hers, feeling the friction generated by the movement of his groin against hers and she breathed into his mouth against his touch.

Her hand moved. She started to tug at the waistband of his joggers, pulling the material down over his ass. The cool air of the room breezed over his naked rear and he felt her nails as they scraped down his skin. Her second hand left the back of his head and came to assist until his joggers were beyond her reach half way down his thighs.

His erection bulged inside his boxers. Her hands were on his side now and she was inside the waistband. Not breaking the kisses, he moved his body up so that he was on his knees and leaning over her, lips still on hers, and unsupported by his hands. He took her hands in his and moved them above her head, pinning them down onto the carpet. She moaned out gently and then he left them there, above her head, as he traced her arms with his fingers. Reaching her armpit she shuddered, and then he traced her side down to the hem of her leggings and he started to pull them down. She raised her butt so that the material was unimpeded. Her kissing became more vigorous, more frantic, and more animalistic. He pulled the leggings to below her knees and then she took back over, pulling him back towards her so that his boxers were against her panties. She kicked off her leggings and then hooked her heels over his lower legs and pulled him tight.

They broke. He looked at her. She looked back. She bit her lip while her hands came to his waistband and started to pull at his boxers. He helped her when the material got caught on his erection and then it was free and he was naked from the waist. He opened his mouth as if to speak and she pre-empted him by pulling his face towards hers, moving her lips to his ear and as she spoke he placed kisses against her neck.

“Don’t speak.”

With one hand on his erection she used the other to pull down her panties. The smell of her wetness filled the air between them; the scent of their longing coming from her wet and swollen lips. He could see moisture on her puffy sex, below the thin strip of pubic hair over her pubis. Her pink hole waited for his desire to fill her. She took the head of his member and rolled her fingers over the head and down his shaft and then back. Breath left his body with a groan of appreciation. Her hand came back behind his head and she pulled him into a tight kiss. With one hand still on his cock she guided it towards her steaming promise and moved the head up and down her slit. She was wet and she was hot and as his head flicked her clitoris she moaned into his mouth.

She positioned the tip against her entrance and looked up into his eyes.

“Don’t speak,” she told him again. “Don’t speak.”

He leaned forward and the head of his member slipped inside his sister.

“Don’t speak.”

Her hands were on his shoulders now, and he dipped his hips and entered her further. She moaned out, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades as her tightness accepted him. Her lips found his again. “Don’t speak,” she said in barely more than a whisper as he flexed himself again and slipped deeper into her.

He pulled back, and then dipped again, repeating the two-inch fuck a couple of times before breaking off from the kiss. He cupped the side of her head with his hand, and then traced a finger down the side of her face. He leaned in and kissed her and then said, “don’t speak.”

He dipped his hips and slipped his full length inside of her cunt, beyond the lining of her maidenhead and she arched her hips and moaned out loudly, her eyes pressed closed in a mixture of pain and lust and he took her in his mouth and they kissed like lovers and then she bit down on his lip and cooed out his name as their pubic hair meshed and he settled fully inside of her. She was wet and she was tight and each thrust, each movement of him inside of his sister, sent waves of pleasure through both of their bodies. As their explored their kinship in this raw, naked way they kept each other close, bodies and lips together. Her sex accepted him, got used to him and stretched around him. He was there, her brother, pressed against her womb while their lips performed the opening ritual of this dance of life.

In the moment they were encased in this bubble of euphoria brought about by the forbidden intimacy of perverting their kinship. He built his assault on her womanhood, slowly withdrawing and inserting as he built up a rhythm, the frequency of his balls slapping against her ass growing in time with her moans as they performed this intimate, illicit act and then it happened; as she undulated her hips to accept him and he increased his speed and intensity their blowout grew and then started to erupt in a cataclysm of euphoric discharge.

“I’m going to—“ he went to say but she rocked her head back, body arching as she rode the wave of this climax and nothing but breath and whimpering left her mouth. Her hands left his shoulders and came to his ass, pulling him into her and preventing him from pulling back. Her eyes writhed in their sockets. A burning euphoria detonated from deep within her. Nerves tingled and exploded. She could see colours deep behind her tightly pressed eyelids.

In response he groaned out. The tension in his nuts building and then releasing with an incredible force. His nuts swelled and then, like a wine cork being released from a bottle, he came inside of his sister, blasting several thick ropes of semen deep inside her cunt and plastering her with his seed. Her legs cramped around his waist and the oily liquid of her sex coated the head of his sex. He collapsed onto her, their bodies slick with the sweat of their taboo.

They gasped for air and lay there, in that moment, in the afterglow of orgasm just gasping.

After a moment he took his slick member from inside of her and she winced a little as the blooded head of his manhood was removed. He then rolled over so that he was next to her. Neither of them spoke.

They lay next to each other breathing heavy for what felt like an age, just looking at the interwoven patterns of the plaster, which snaked across the roof. As his seed trickled down her thigh and her brothers cum lined her womb the enormity of what they had done came over them. She stood without speaking, gathered up her clothes dazedly as if she had just woken one morning after a drunken tryst and she left the room. He lay looking up at the roof until the sound of the shower turning on brought him from his daze and directly it stopped he got up and headed for the stairs.

She was coming out of the shower when he came onto the landing, her hair hanging damp over one shoulder and a towel wrapped around her waist. They looked at each awkwardly.

“We can never tell Mom about this,” she said, hovering in the doorway to her bedroom. He nodded, all he could do, and she afforded him a meek smile and then she closed her door.

Their incestuous indiscretion soon became a thing of the past. It was never spoken of again. They acted as if it never happened; there was little change in their relationship although she would look at him differently sometimes when they were together. The knowledge of it lingered between them as an unspoken entity. Their taboo. He often thought about what she said to him that night, the only acknowledgement of their taboo. “We can never tell Mom about this,” and the naivety of it tickled him as if he would ever let their Mom know that he had fucked his sister.

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