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Shawntel’s sexual heat makes my blood boil; her perfect body drives me mad with lust. Especially when she is randy and in need of a good, hearty fuck, and let me tell you one and all, she needs lots of good, hearty fucks.

Saying her name, breaking it apart into several sharply defined syllables reminds me of ripe, tasty and forbidden fruit, the kind of tasty, sweet nugget you bite, sends you straight to hell. Hell yes, you still bite down, suck its tart flesh, toy with it playfully, delight in its flavor, fill your mouth with it succulent nectar, let it drip from between your lips and hell you even want to rip into the rind, gulp down the seeds, gnaw the pits into mush, slurp on the stem. Consume it all. Full up with sensation, bursting with bloated completion, caught up the mechanics of its digestion. Damn that cursed, vile snake.

Thinking of fucking her, my cock hardens; heaviness settles in my loins, heat suffuses my skin, my eyes cloud over. We fuck like two young, breathtakingly beautiful animals. I, the buccaneer dallying with a luscious wench, feel like such a rogue immersed in Shawntel’s lithe body. The wickedness of our compact makes my body tingle. Shawntel’s cock hungry excess spurs me on. Enemies may be at the gate, bombs bursting overhead, and do Shawntel and I care. No, not at all let me tell you.

At a recent cocktail party, a full hipped, big breasted woman in shiny nylons named Gwen stood near me. Sporting a closely cropped, easily maintained shag of shiny black hair, she was a delectable creature with rouged high cheek bones, delicate mouth and a svelte long neck, a paralegal in a near to nothing low cut black sheath showing off her assets so spectacularly she took my breath away. Gwen motioned toward Shawntel, mentioned how thrilled she was being this near to Shawntel’s alluring body, wanting her pug nose down in her crack. Can we arrange that you think?

“Honey doll, we are a matched set.” I said showing my most becoming smile.

“More the better. You two are so wicked, I like that.” Gwen said.

Shawntel was standing next to Gwen arching her eyebrows, cocking her head and from the way she licked her lips I knew what she wished, felt her energy. She was eager and her body wanted attention. She was decked out in a pale blue silk concoction that left little to the imagination. Gwen glanced down; saw my inflated cock jockeying about in my pants, the three of us, each one of us armed with a drink stood in the middle of a room filled with palaver, raucous laughter and back slapping smacks. My eyes signaled an invitation for our happy trio to slip away for a more private encounter. Five minutes later we clustered in one of the many immense and opulent guest bathrooms on the mansion’s second floor. Gwen resting on a cool marble countertop, her dress squeezed into a narrow band around her small waist; her feet clad in open toed black pumps, expensive, fashionable ones pressed into my back as I rammed her to the sound of White Snake chewing up the walls with its raucous, pitilessly grinding sound.

Gwen’s husband, was maybe thirty-five feet away, sucking up to another gorgeous woman no doubt and that made our congress that much more wicked and delicious even if he was not bothered to be left out in the cold. As I fucked Gwen, her ass hanging out over the pink oval basin, her backside was bumping into the polished bronze faucets. Shawntel was behind me pitched on her knees, her head angled up between my wide spread legs, her mouth sucking my balls while her tongue probed around the exterior rim of Gwen’s slash.

Before leaving the bathroom smelling of Yardley lavender soap and squeaky clean guest towels and rose petals in a tiny silver filigree tray on the top of the toilet, Gwen and Shawntel never meeting a male cock they did not like sucking sucked me. My member partitioned between their greedy mouths like it was a disputed country up for grabs, Shawntel licking its eastern realm while Gwen lapped away at its western approach. And in a finale Gwen went down on Shawntel as I watched. My ass back bumped around the commode’s porcelain throne. I plucked a few rose petals from the silver tray behind me and rubbed the cool silky leaves against my cock and felt them quickly disintegrate under my furious friction.

After our fuckfest, giddy from drinking bubbly champagne cocktails, way too much pate, Shawntel and I went home, left Gwen and hubby to their own devices, fell into our sumptuous sleigh bed and fucked all night and into the next day.

What makes this so remarkable?

Shawntel and I are twins. Since our eighteenth birthday, we have shared the same bed, slept together contentedly and copulated as thought there was no tomorrow.

Some nights after she climbs into bed, I reach between her creamy smooth thighs, know Dad had fucked her, fucked her beyond any measure of restraint.

In the Hulcer clan incest is no taboo, not considered a vice by any means. The women in our tribe and this includes grandmother, mother and my twin sister, all are blessed with beauty, lithe bodies, a roundness of form amatör porno and then packed with insatiable needs. The men in our brood are dark; most of us with crisp black hair, our faces smudged with five o’clock shadow, remarkably high foreheads, sharply defined jaws, cock meat not more then average in length and girth but to our women folk these tools still fit the bill. All of us hungry, besotted with our females, endowed with a surfeit of need and want, we partook of each other on the wine cellar’s dark racks, in the shallow end of the swimming pool, under the yellow and white striped cabana, in the breakfast nook with a margarine sun sweeping through the leaded windows. How often I have drizzled sugar on Shawntel’s snatch sitting at the simple pine table near those leaded windows.

So far our family has not produced any addle brained miscreants. And as you like it, we pride ourselves on taking our pleasure as we see fit to take it.

Shawntel, my slut, my whore she remains to this day. I dab cigars into her twat ala Mr. President and big dildos are thrust in there too. Did he did do that too, I wondered. With Shawntel he most assuredly would and be all the better for it.

Shawntel loves nothing better then a spray of hot sperm across her demure, pretty face. She particularly likes the facials I give her. She adores facials from any cock thrust into her face if truth be known. If I had any gift for poetry, I’d write a sonnet on Shawntel’s astonishing capability sucking cock. Few women give head as adeptly as my sexy sister.

Born just a few moments after me, Shawntel is never as beautiful as when she is sprawled in this very boudoir, looking up at me with her pink face covered in my spent semen.

What makes this all the more extraordinary is Shawntel fucking daddy since her 18th birthday and me fucking mommy from the same date. Is that a rite of passage or what?

On our eighteenth birthday pop smeared butter on Shawntel’s nose, then mine, in remembrance of an ancient Druid ritual. We each opened a little white tissue wrapped box, hers festooned in pink ribbon, and mine girded by a blue ribbon. Inside resting on white cotton Shawntel found silver car keys as did I. Fast, sexy, rip snorting automobiles with high end CD players, leather cockpits and convertible tops. Hers being yellow and mine a nifty fire engine red. We then ate birthday cake and later when quiet settled over the house I was in bed stroking my cock thinking of Mom in all her voluptuous and sensuous splendor giving me some great head while I steered my car through a distant neighborhood of mansions built way back from the road behind winding drive-ways. I imagined the back of her head bumping the steering column. We’d stop somewhere and I eat her on the car hood while she clasped her thighs about my noggin and the heat from the hood seeped into the fabric of her next to nothing dress. In the dream Mom’s luscious mouth was drowning my cock in her mouth, her tongue swirling about its head, her lips tickled by my pubic hair.

My imagination not content to fuck Mom on the front of my car I then fixated on her in a white mesh teddy, her bosoms thrusting from their balconet ribbing. I seemed to remember being in bed with her all that night fucking her moist cunt. “Jesus Mom, what a delicious slut you are. Dad is one lucky cock hound.”

The bedroom door opened with a blast of air from the hallway, Shawntel entered in a black Brazilian lace teddy slit down the front, her bare feet curving enticingly as she approached the bed, her thighs shined as though appliquéd in moonbeams. She hoisted herself onto the gargantuan bed and I feasted my eyes on her naked snatch peeking from under its tenuously fine line of fabric bedecked with ribbon and feminine mystique.

Shawntel’s pubes were unshaved and scented with jasmine.

“Ritchie, let’s have a birthday fuck. It is time lover.”

“I’m game. First, leave that sexy thing on and come over here and give me some sweet head. I have always imagined your mouth on my cock and now I want it for real.”

“Of course I will.” She walked around the bed, bent forward a bit.

“Honey, do you like the way these high heels make my legs look. Aren’t they just dazzling? It took me nearly an hour to find the perfect pair.”

Sis had chosen wisely. They were made of Lucite, had five inch heels and corded her legs and thrust out her ass, made her look like a wet dream made real.

“Ritchie we are going to be so wicked and do everything that a man and woman can do sexually. I want to suck your cock, you’ll eat my pussy, fuck me in my ass and one day I want to be gang banged. I crave to have sperm covering my face, dripping off my tits, running out of my cunt. Would you like to see that lover? I itch to be naughty.”

“What does this tell you?” I pointed at my cock. Hard, I feared its end might burst long before Sis clamped her lips around it.

“Leave the heels on you delicious slut and get over here and suck me off. I want to give you a facial baby sister.”

“Baby sister. You know anal porno you are not more then two minutes older then me.”

“Well, big brother wants to be sucked off and then I am going to fuck the shit out of you.”

“I have no problem with that at all.”

Shawntel opened my legs and commenced sucking me off. It felt so deliciously wicked being this way with Shawntel.

Shawntel’s mouth slid over my cock until her lips were brushing deeply into my pubic hair. Talk about deep throat. She had it down cold.

Sucking ardently her cheeks puckered, she’d stop, lift me up and stop licking my shaft for a moment and then quickly return to blowing me. She was in a feeding frenzy now. Had Mom schooled her in the arts of lovemaking? I think so.

That was the last night I slept alone. Naturally, the bed ended up looking like a World War I battlefield. The springs kept creaking under our battering ram of bodies and I moaned deep down in my throat as Shawntel’s mouth was noisy sucking me.

She stopped for once more; I sprang from the range of her hot mouth.

“Well, big brother are you going to fuck the shit out of me after I get you off with my mouth?”

“Of course I am.”

She engaged me again.

“Just before you are ready to come, let me know. I want your sperm to squirt my face. I know you want to see your spooge dripping down my cheeks.”

“Slow down a bit, I want this to last. It feels so good. I can tell you have sucked a few cocks Sis.”

“A few. Dad knows his stuff.”

She returned her attentions to my member. Speeded up for a time and then got a slow rhythm going. Shawntel the master fellatrix. I had read of a woman in Paris during the 1920s named La Bouche, the Mouth. She charged a king’s ransom for 15 minutes of head. I imagined Shawntel could give La Bouche a run for her money.

“Suck me baby, suckka my cock,” the words eked from my mouth.

Her mouth could be the secret weapon to end all secret weapons, an impetus to get anything you wanted from a man addicted to having his cock blown.

While she delighted me with the wonders of her mouth, I reached down stroked the firm columns of her thighs, touched her tits and my fingers found their way into her moist twat.

Shawntel’s pussy was flooded with liquid gold; awash in nectar and I swiftly pushed my cock deeper into her mouth.

Then she did the most delightful thing. She gave the head of my cock a series of little nicks with her pearly white teeth and I yelled “damn, damn, damn.”

“You like.” She somehow managed to articulate with her mouth full of me.

“I am going to come.”

Shawntel’s lips popped off my cock and a microsecond later my sperm shot into her lustrous hair while and more of my semen dribbled down her face.

“God, I wish I had a camera right now to see my shiny sperm dripping off your face Sis.”

“Now, you will fuck me lover boy.”

Now we fuck at every opportunity. She is without inhibition, is willing to try anything.

Other then the privacy of this bedroom and numerous locations about the house and the occasional outdoor trysting spot our favorite place is Rocking Horse Farms, Grandpa Dooley’s horse place in the valley where he raises Appaloosas. Grandpa resembles Randolph Scott when he slips his legs up over a saddle and canters Big Blue about the ranch. What a machismo sight the man is. Riding chaps, bow-legged, a big sweaty Stetson cocked on his head, horse flesh under him he is one of the lusty weather-beaten men who ranged all over the West in its heyday.

Last Friday Shawntel, dressed in a thin, tight red dress that showed her tits. On her diminutive feet she wore red pumps with four inch spike heels. Me, I wore chinos and a soft blue shirt, a gold belt buckle and stylish aviator sunglasses. We attended a soiree at Rocking Horse Farms hosted by Grand Dad, Muriel his mistress and Millie, our sweet natured Grand Ma. Mom and Dad naturally and multiple cousins, aunts and uncles aplenty were also attending. Most of us flew into the private airstrip on the northeast edge of the ranch.

Just before we departed our bedroom I pushed Shawntel’s dress up around her hips and fucked her to take the edge off, to get her ready for the flight. I took my time and balanced her deftly on my prick; let her get my pearly glow on her pubes so she’d squish on the airplane for our flight to Wyoming.

On the plane heading to the ranch Shawntel had blown Dad while he piloted the plane east. He kept his eyes on the instrument gauges, flew straight and level and all the time his daughter bumped the back of her head against the steering yoke.

“Shawntel, keep your beanie off the throttle for God’s sake”, I said.

To Dad the only thing better was sitting in his immense bathtub, reading the Wall Street Journal while Shawntel sucked him off. In the back seat Mom sucked me off. She is extraordinarily competent in getting me off.

Up early on Saturday and after eating a fruit and yogurt breakfast and big bowls of bran cereal on the terrace, Shawntel and I anal breakers porno headed over to the hay barn where she got her ashes hauled in a fully tricked out gypsy wagon straight out of a Rumanian forest. Sitting on bright yellow wheels and painted a headache inducing garish red, the sides of the wagon advertised what gypsies do when not shaking tambourines. Inside on the right side was a bed where Shawntel was fucked by eight men in the morning and nine in the afternoon after a light lunch of smoked salmon and cheese.

Grand Dad watched it closely like sage brush auteur and took his pleasures in his inimitable way while each man took his turn fucking Shawntel. He always videotapes these productions. He is quite the cinematographer too in his use of light, shadow, color, finding the drama of the moment. We may be laying pipe to Shawntel but it never seems coarse or rough hewn. He gets lots of close ups of Shawntel giving head, big cocks plowing into her. He too is an aficionado of facials. She starts with number one and does not stop until each man has shot his sperm into a sector of her face. The glistening come shines under the lights.

After she drank a jug of sparkling water and used the bathroom, Shawntel returned to the wagon and reclined once more on the mussed bed. Our little group broke into teams. Each man team fucks her, one in her mouth, one fucking her pussy and one jamming himself in her ass.

Each man is not done until he creams Shawntel’s face with come. Each man stays on top of her until his sperm fills her pussy.

Grand Dad sits in a black wing back chair looking too big for this space. He sips brandy from a snifter and Muriel deftly sucked Grand Dad’s cock and took huge rubber dildos up her twat. She is all big tits, a slash of red mouth, flaming red hair, a former model, then a stripper, several high quality porn flicks to her credit, she is always available to me if I am so inclined and I am often so inclined. She is in the family don’t you know and I love doing it with her. She is a woman to be reckoned with.

Shawntel once spent a three day weekend in this gypsy wagon being fucked by a troop of men.

Shawntel, sweet Sis, loves these epic gang bangs. Such a giving woman getting her wanton needs met by man after man fucking her and she has yet to say “No more.”

On this particular weekend she satisfied herself with 17 hard cocks. Such a mess she was and so tasty too.

Naked, eager to play, cocks squirming into all her orifices, these baying hounds humping and hollering, a chaotic jumble of cunt licking, cock sucking and all players at one time or another digging into her ass.

Shawntel often told me the delight of these gang bangs was the hodgepodge of textures, the tactile sensations of such a variety of cock flesh plowing into her from all angles, all the different smells of aftershave, lotions and postures turned her on. Some men were so aggressive, others more passive, one man seeming to always be in her mouth, another content to fuck her ass.

Sweet, tart, bitter, the semen seemed never to stop flowing. She swallowed it all.

On her knees and elbows, mouth wide open, we doggedly doggy fucked her, she’d Sixty-nine.

On this particular occasion after having a turn in her orifices, I squatted on the floor and watched Shawntel. Nearby Grand Dad was being sucked by Muriel. Shawntel’s head spilled over the side of the bed and Grand Dad took the opportunity to push Muriel from his mouth long enough to shift his member into his grand daughter’s mouth.

Most of the time I could not help but remain between Shawntel’s slim legs fucking her, saying the words common to fuckdom the world over. At the same time I knew Mom was in the bunk house at this very moment getting fucked by a cadre of ranch hands. Where might Dad be? Probably doing one of the upstairs maids in a linen closet or on the sumptuous bedstead he shared with Mom.

Shawntel responded by saying, “God damn it, Ritchie, I dearly love to fuck you. Give it to me honey.” Then I flooded her with some more come.

Now, six months later in the midst of what is a blistering heat wave for this part of the country, Shawntel and I had returned to the ranch for the annual family reunion.

Kevin Dooley our Grand Dad loved his status as lord of the manor. In honor of our arrival at his sprawling ranch in the shadows of the Grand Tetons, he had some ranch hands hitch two gray horses to the buckboard refurbished by the Louper Brothers years ago. Painted bright green, its wheel spokes blood red, the buggy always caused a stir when seen in town or wheeling about the vast ranch.

This year Shawntel and I had taken the train from Seattle, arrived in the tiny village of Lawndale, a pocket of humanity where the air smelled of spruce and was generally chilly in the shadow of the mountain, a one horse town if there ever was one. When we arrived Kevin was our driver. He was wearing forest green jodhpurs, straight black boots and a green denim shirt. His gray hair was brushed back and he looked as hard as flint. Green eyes turned toward us, face cracked with crevices, a hawk’s nose what an impressive sight he was perched on the single seat, his left leg resting on the buggy’s brake, the reins laced through his paws. He smiled and motioned for us to climb on the bench next to him.

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