LEO'S SHUFFLE

-Previously-

Laila is my step-sister, the daughter of my dad's second wife, Rose. While dad and Rose were dating, I got bits and pieces of their history from dad whenever he tried to sell me on how wonderful Rose was. It seems Rose was a close friend of my mother's, and the three of them hung out quite often before mom got pregnant with me.

I met Laila the night dad had gone out of his way to make the house (and me) extra presentable under the guise of a quiet dinner with Rose, where he proposed, and Rose accepted as Laila and I both watched in shocked disbelieve.

Yesterday I tried to take advantage of Laila. I obtained a love potion called Aries' Horn that would allow me to have sex with Laila whenever I wanted, as often as I wanted, without her knowing I was there. The talisman was not real. It was an elaborate scheme created by Laila to show me she loved me; the only way she knew how.

Turns out, Laila's a slut; a broken slut. Or, maybe a broken nympho is a better description. I prefer the imagery of the word slut. Not in a demeaning or degrading way; it is what she is. I know it, she knows, and I'm ok with it because my step-sister consented to be my slut about twenty hours ago.

Until about four hours ago, when we both passed out from exhaustion, my step-sister and I fucked, sucked, vibed each other, and just about anything else you can think of that involves my penis penetrating her mouth, her cunt, or her ass. That's not including what I did to her with her collection of sex toys.

Yesterday, when not naked and sharing our favorite porn videos on the big screen TV in the family room, we fucked in every room in our parent's house, including the garage. She and I had to cum at least once per room before we considered it properly christened.

Late last night, we ended up in our parent's bed, trying out various positions and techniques on each other until our bodies refused to cooperate, and our brains struggled to remain conscious.

Our last fuck of the night was me spooning behind her, weakly rocking my cock into her until I strained to express what had to be just one or two drops of cum from my battered penis. She was comatose when that happened. With my spent cock still inside her and my arms holding her close, I slipped into a deep, exhausted sleep immediately after my forced climax peaked. I took her slutty nakedness with me to the other side of consciousness, where we repeated the day's events in my dreams.

-12 Hours-

I woke to the warmth of my step-sister's mouth, suckling on my morning wood. My cock was sore, feeling bruised from our activities the day before. I reached out, pulling Laila's thigh closer to finger her pussy while she continued sucking on my cock without interruption. I eventually pulled her leg over my head while rolling onto my side to use her thigh as a pillow while I fed myself her cunt for breakfast.

The dank, musky aroma of her cunt quickly cleared the fog from my brain faster than the strongest coffee could. My overused cock expanded in her mouth, both from the hot silky stimulation of her tonsils and taste-bud abrasive tongue and the lust-inducing flavors of her slimy pussy tickling my nose and invigorating my tongue. Practicing on her the day before, I had quickly learned where my tongue enjoyed exploring between her labia and where she responded most from my tongue's snaking explorations.

After feeding my ego with three of her head-crushing, thigh-clenching climaxes, I grunted into her groin as my hips spasmed my first load of the morning into her mouth, maintaining what had become our ratio of three to one. As I descended from my climax, I admired and toyed with Laila's pussy, and she did the same to my cock and balls.

I twisted and rolled around on the king-sized mattress until we were face to face. Like magnets, our bodies stuck to the other's as we kissed. The lingering tang of my cum in her mouth, and the bouquet of her cunt around mine, enhanced the sensory experience of embracing my step-sister's naked flesh as our mouths merged.

Our full bladders prevented our gently rolling naked embrace from lasting longer than it did. The curious excitement of new sex had not faded, even after the marathon sessions we had the day before. I asked, and she allowed me to watch her urinate, spreading her thighs as she sat on the toilet. Then, like in the shower the day before, Laila took ownership of my penis, holding me as she aimed my stream into the bowl, adding my fluid discharge to hers.

The master bedroom en-suite shower allowed the two of us more room to play, but we stayed connected, the magnetic fields of our bodies keeping each other in close contact as we washed off the day before from each other's naked bodies. Excited glances, invasive caresses, and lust-filled admiring stares communicated everything unsaid; enhanced, and clarified through long, open-mouthed full-body embraces.

My balls may have been recharging, but my cock was up and ready for more. Without telegraphing my intent, I spun Laila out of one of our soapy embraces, pressed her to the cold tile wall, holding my mostly hard cock as I guided it into her cunt. Her hands fingered out, suctioning themselves to the tile as my hips pressed her stomach to the wall while my cock penetrated her silk cavern. I could see the rounded edges of her breasts ballooning out from behind her ribs as I wiggled and squirmed my cock deeper into her, holding her hips tight to mine as I pressed her body to the shower's wall.

I pulled back a little too far during one of my retreating actions. When I thrust forward, my cock missed Laila's cunt, ramming full speed into her ass, unintentionally force-feeding my entire length in one rapid rectal penetration.

"Holy FUCK!" she groaned with the side of her face pressed to the tile, then pleaded, "Do that again!... More... I want more!"

I complied, pulling out until I could see the head of my cock, then ramming my horn into her anal sheth as forcefully and quickly as I thought safe.

She cooed, cursed, and almost slid down the wall, begging me, "One more... please... fuck your slut's ass!"

Once more, I pulled back then jammed my cock sight unseen into her hungry butt. Her fingers clenched against the frictionless wall, trying and failing to find something to grasp. She grunted a pleasured curse, pushing back on my penetration, wiggling her hips, trying to work my cock deeper into her body.

Her sphincter seemed just as tight as it was the first time I fucked her ass, and with the shower raining down on us, my masculinity kicked in, driving me to relentlessly bugger her butt until my legs could no longer hold me up in the slippery shower. Even her pained pleasured yipes and barks were not enough to unleash the cum I desperately wanted to inject into my step-sister.

I staggered back, sitting on the small tile bench. Laila's face seemed to have a Jokeresque grin as she lowered herself to her knees. Her blue eyes expressing a bight and infectious delight as she soaped and cleaned my cock and balls. Looking up at me, stroking my cock with firm determination as she implored, "Cum on my face... I want to watch you cum up close and feel your love on my skin."

I shook my head, explaining, "I don't like seeing men to that. It's not respectful."

"I don't want you to respect me," she pouted, "I want you to fuck me... you said you wanted to own my sex... well," Laila insisted, squeezing my cock tighter, stroking faster as she insisted, "Show me, and yourself, I'm your sex-pet... your slut... cum on my face."

"Ok," I consented. Standing up, I took over masturbating as Laila knee-crawled closer. I stroked my cock above her glowing face, directing, "I will only do this when you ask me to, and only when you're masturbating for me... Make yourself cum," I directed with a stern authoritarian tone as I looked down upon her.

I swear Laila's face lit up like a light bulb before one hand disappeared between her legs and the other around her backside. Her intense blue eyes remained locked on mine as we stimulated ourselves to climax. Her breasts jiggled, echoing the motion of her hand as she rubbed herself between her legs and fucked her ass with two fingers. Her dark chocolate puffy nipples were already inflamed but seemed to grow even harder.

Since we started down this path of forbidden love, I studied every one of her climaxes, and I was starting to recognize the signs of her pending orgasms.

Above her breast and below her neck, a subtle flush of red appeared under her tanned skin just before her breathing became unsteady and erratic. Laila's nose flared as her lungs began to huff and puff. With the shower behind her back, she continued to aim her glowing face and piercing eyes at me during her increasingly frantic climb to the top of her orgasm.

I encouraged her, repeating various commands like, "That's it... cum for me... I want to watch you and hear you cum for me... then I will give you what you want." Laila's quick puffs became rapid huffs, and her face turned a dark red. She looked like someone suffering from painful constipation as she compelled her body to climax for me, in front of me, on her knees as I stroked my cock in front of her face.

Her mouth opened, but her eyes remained locked on mine as her voice box whimpered like a lonely puppy, almost, but not quite, barking as the subtle red patch on her chest grew larger and darker. Her short, hyperventilating gasps accelerated when I took a half step nearer, stroking my cock faster and close to her face. Her chest and throat release a long whimpering whine, straining to keep her eyes locked on mine as she orgasmed.

Her climax triggered my climax. I could feel my balls tingling and the inside of my penis pulsating as I came on Laila's face. Through the eye-rolling, brain fogging grunts I had come to enjoy sharing with Laila, my cock spit the first glob just below one of her tear ducts and alongside her nose.

A second longer strand bridged her nose. Both surprise shots interrupted her climax and pushed her over the peak at the same time. Laila's head instinctively recoiled, and her face cringed in response to my hot goo impacting her face. The next squirt was almost as strong as the first two, depositing a long strand of white across the top of Laila's lip, almost inside her nose, and definitely inside her mouth.

Her head shivered as her hand franticly made her disrupted climax resume where it had left off. Her eyes glowed when I moved the tip of my penis to her open mouth, milking whatever I had left in my shaft directly onto her extended tongue. Two more globs ejected from the eye of my penis, pooling together on her tongue. Her lips closed around the head of my cock, then her tongue and the vacuum of her cheeks extracted any residual ejaculate my hand couldn't squeeze out of my cock.

Laila was a fast learner and knew what her tongue needed to do to make my knees flex during the period of post-ejaculation hypersensitivity. Her face and eyes still glowing at me as the deep red blush under the tan across her chest started to fade. She raised her cunt goo-ed hand to mine, and I helped her stand, watching in amazement as her lips sucked my cock until the last possible moment. Beaming pridefully, she leaned out of the shower to admire her cum splattered face in one of the mirrors.

Laila turned back to me, proudly declaring, "I'm not going to wash it off. I wish the house were full of people so I could walk around with my lover's cum on my face making sure they all know I'm yours."

The confident tone in her voice faded as she quietly sought confirmation, "I am yours... right?"

"For as long as I am yours," I replied, my ego silently enjoying seeing the white blobs I deposited on her tanned face. While ignoring the nagging voice of Jiminy Cricket suggesting I had belittled my step-sister in some way.

Laila stepped out of the shower, actively avoiding her face as she dried herself off. She wore my cum on her face proudly as I followed her naked ass to our shared bathroom. All along the way, Laila glanced at her reflection in whatever mirror or reflective surface we passed.

Standing in front of the mirror of our shared Jack and Jill bathroom, I watched her watch her reflection as she wiped the strand on her lips into her mouth. Leaving the other streaks of cum I had deposited on her face in place,

Laila and I both stared at her reflection while brushing our teeth. Eventually, she massaged the gravity-tugged cum crawling down her nose and cheek into her skin like it was sun-tan lotion while we discussed who would clean which rooms we christened the day before with our sexual activities.

As I mentioned before, Laila's broken, believing she needs to make herself, her sex, fully accessible to her lover at all times. I was more than willing to satisfy her need to feel loved this way, demonstrating my feelings for her by fucking her without warning several times before lunch. Sometimes interrupting whatever she was doing, helping her to her knees so she could suck me off. Always without asking for permission or initiating any foreplay. And always ending our quickies with me walking away afterward, having used her for my satisfaction, leaving Laila glowing proudly, confidently.

Lunch was rather subdued compared to the day before. We gave each other hand jobs, and she taught me how to use some of her toys to make her cum as we watched porn on the big screen.

When we heard the dryer singing its song of completeness, we stopped our mutual playtime. Laila cleaned up the family room while I collected the previously sex soiled sheets and made dad and Rose's bed.

More than once, while doing our chores, my penis found its way inside my step-sister's receptive vagina. Penetrating her every time she pretended to drop something, leaning over some appliance or piece of furniture, reaching for something that was not there.

After we fucked again in her room, we made her bed; then we checked the master suite one more time, ensuring we had returned it to its pre-two-person orgy state.

The moment we stepped into the hallway, I wrapped my arms around her from behind, filling my hands with her breasts, grinding my groin to her ass as I kissed and sucked on her neck. I felt her savoring my unannounced naked embrace when her lung-filling sigh pushed back against my embrace. My lips moved up her neck to her ear. Unable to suck on her jewelry encrusted lobe, my tongue traced the outline of her ear before releasing her breast and my embrace when I stepped back.

She spun around, glaring disappointedly and painfully at me before I commanded, "We both have homework to do."

Pouting like a child, she groaned as I said, "Get your stuff, and we'll work together in the dining room... naked, of course... and if you're a good girl, I'll fuck you while you're working, and you can suck me off while I'm doing my stuff."

"From under the table?" she inquired excitedly.

"Of course," I smirked, "You're too beautiful and distracting for me to focus on my work... besides, isn't that what you want... to be my slut... my sex-pet."

"Why the fuck did I wait so long," she cursed to herself, speed walking toward her room as I watched and admired her perfect bikini shadowed tanned ass jiggling with each hurried step.

-Study Buddies-

We set ourselves up in the dining room, laptops and books in front of us, and towels under our butts, both stealing and glancing at the other's nakedness as we worked. I don't know if Laila's periodic stretches, exposing and aiming her bare breasts at me were real or simply her teasing or taunting me, but I will admit to enjoying the distraction.

Neither one of us had picked a life-defining course of study; both of us in our last semester of mandatory classes before having to select a specific degree. My PH265 logic course required more memorization of terms and types of arguments than any real thought, which allow me more opportunities to admire my naked step-sister across the table from me.

Laila's report dealt with ethnic migrations to the United States and the impact immigrants had on US Culture and customs, a class I had dealt with my first semester. After testing myself with some computer-based flashcards, I reviewed and tuned up the mostly finished report I worked on the day before, the one that wasn't due for another few weeks.

I closed my laptop, pushed back from the table, then began pulling, pinching, and stroking my penis awake. Laila's eyes sparkled at me when she looked across the table and saw what I was doing. I remained silent, pointing with a finger and my eyes at her homework. She pouted but returned her attention where it needed to be.

I stood up, my reawakened erection standing out and swaying as I walked around the table. Laila turned to look at me, my hard cock specifically, but I reached out, twisting her head back to her report before she could kiss my penis. I moved behind her chair, pulling her hips up and out, sliding her chair away with my feet. She looked back over her shoulder, and I once again redirected her attention to her computer's screen.

Laila quickly understood and complied, leaning forward, spreading her legs a little, and pushing her butt up. I caressed her upturned ass, ran my finger through her butt crack, and spread open her cheeks to admire her butt-plug-filled ass. At various points during our shared sexual abuse of each other, we defined a few of our relationship rules or guidelines. One being no plug, no entry. If I found a plug filling her ass, that meant she had prepared herself for our mutual pleasure, and I could pull her plug and fuck her ass as long as I wanted. She also explicitly told me to make sure I reinserted the plug so my cum would stay inside her... 'where it belonged.'

My finger circled the jewel-capped insertion, but I wasn't ready to take her ass again. I wanted, or more specifically, my penis wanted pussy. My fingers continued past her taint, coating themselves with her ever-flowing natural lube. Dipping diving and sliding around her overlapping labia, I pinched and held her clit for a moment, and I saw her eyes close in the reflection of her screen.

"No," I directed, "Focus on your work, or I stop," pulling my hand away.

Laila took a deep breath, nodded, then resumed typing. I resumed my phalangeal explorations, reading over her shoulder as she typed.

"May I offer some suggestions?" I asked, inserting a lone finger into her cunt, wiggling and twisting it around inside her tightly clenched silk sheath.

Laila moaned quietly, then replied, "Please. I don't get what he wants us to say in this report... I don't get it. Who cares why the Irish became cops."

"I'm sure they cared," I replied, inserting a second finger into my step-sister's fully accessible pussy. Moving my fingers in and out of her as I explained what I remembered. I continued to fuck her with my fingers as I suggested a couple of search terms that I found useful for my report. While she read an article comparing and contrasting Irish immigrants escaping the potato famine to the workers imported from China to build the transcontinental railway, I watched my penis penetrate her primed and ready pussy.

I'm a novice, but my step-sister is an expert when it comes to the pleasures of the flesh. Based purely on the last twenty-four-hour fuck-fest she and I shared, I confirmed what I tried to tell Laila earlier; there were different kinds of sex. Feeling and watching my penis sliding in and out of her velvet passageway, I cathartically understood why the Inuit have so many different ways to say 'snow.'

I watched from behind her as a similar inspiration struck her. Laila's fingers flashed across the keyboard. The way she was having to stop and make typing corrections told me her brain was outracing her finger's ability to enter her thoughts into the computer.As she tried to bottle her inspiration, I tried to invent a new way to say the word 'fuck' in my head as I savored feeling my uneager to cum penis inside my step-sister. It and I, savoring the feeling of Laila's slimy cunt contracting and pulsating around my inserted shaft as I rocked myself in and out of her with unhindered ease.

I didn't have an eager instinctive urge to cum; I was simply enjoying the feeling of her cunt suckling on my cock as I advanced and retreated. It wasn't a hurried fuck either; instead, a slow, purposeful penetration and withdrawal that seemed strangely natural and uncommonly casual, as if what we were doing and sharing was something she and I had been sharing all of our lives. Or, perhaps what we should have been sharing for far longer than the past twenty-four hours.

I watched with fascination as her inner lips clung to and pleaded with my penis to stay inside her when I retreated, then eagerly swallowed all I had to give when I moved forward. I glanced up, looking past her relaxed naked back to see she had inputted at least three paragraphs. I began reading over her shoulder as I continued our slow fuck. I found myself nodding as I muttered, "That's good... oh, shit... I didn't think about that... Laila... that really good stuff."

"I didn't get it," she replied, still franticly typing away. Her ass remained unmoving as I continued to slowly fuck my step-sister from behind; while reading over her shoulder, her pausing to type something before saying, "Not until you helped me."

She stopped typing, and I stopped fucking when she twisted her head back to look at me, pleading, "Don't stop... please. Before you started... having you inside me was all I could think about... then when I felt your fingers... then your penis inside me... I didn't have to imagine what you would feel like inside me... I felt it... if that makes sense."

"I'll keep going if you do," I offered, resuming my purposefully slow fuck, adding, "check your spelling... potato doesn't have an 'e.'"

"How long can you last?" Laila asked, also returning her focus to her task at hand.

"Forever," I replied once again, "If you need me too," while admiring her butt-plugged ass and my cock just below the hidden jeweled cap.

"I love you too," Laila replied somewhat distantly as her fingers raced across the keyboard.

I settled in for a long gentle fuck, and so did my penis. Laila's cunt was quite accommodating as well, never drying out or getting too relaxed, maintaining a constant, sometimes pulsating grasp of my cock as I continued to rock in and out of her. After my knees grew tired, I pulled the chair under me, appreciating the towels Laila insisted we lay across the seats when I sat down, all without disconnecting our interlocking parts.

She took over after I pulled her down to sit on my lap, grinding up and down on my cock as she worked. Sometimes Laila's grinding lap dance sped up to match the speed of her thoughts and ideas flowing from her brain through her fingers and into the computer. Other times, slowing down or stopping, sitting on her impalement as she pondered her next sentence or prepared her next train of thought for its trip from her brain, through her fingers, and into the computer.

I was kissing her back, and my hands had found the curved edges of her breasts under her arms when I heard her laptop close, then felt her celebrating the completion of her report by dancing in a circular pattern on my cock.

"I need to cum," she declared, just before feeling her fingertips touching my balls as she rubbed her clit. Her grinding became more intense, faster, and she started to vocalize her satisfaction as I watched her butt squirming on my lap. I pulled her back to press her back to my chest as my hands filled themselves with her breasts. A few supportive tweaks and twists and tugs on her nipples had her singing my praises as she climaxed.

Before her hands had stopped quivering, she dis-impaled herself, kneeling in front of me, half under the table, as her hand pulled my cunt coated cock to her mouth. One of her still trembling hands stroked me as she fed my penis to her appreciative oral orifice. The other hand disappeared between her legs. Her intense blue eyes looked up at me as she worked me to the edge of climax and back at least three times.

There was something to the visual of her under the table sucking my cock that made me want to cum, but she wouldn't let me. Either holding her finger on that spot under my balls that blocked my sperm's escape or denying me just before I spewed.

She stopped once again, just as I was about to flood her mouth with my cum, push me off the chair abruptly before climbing up on it herself. She sat on her knees, bending over, aiming her ass, and plug-free butthole at me. Her butt, more specifically, her asshole, was at the perfect height to fuck endlessly and almost effortlessly. And, having spent the better part of an hour sliding in and out of her free-to-use cunt, I knew it was time for me to return the favor and fuck her ass the way she wanted me to.

No words were needed as I stepped forward, inserting my cock into her offered asshole with little resistance. My masculinity assuming my repeated rectal penetrations had weakened her anal ring over the past day, easing my entry into her rectum. She gasped, then cooed as I inserted my full length in one forcefully penetration. My hands grasped her hips, and I began fucking her ass like an animal.

The urgent need to cum inside my step-sister had returned with a violent and determined passion.

The fog of fucking returned too, and all I could see and feel was my cock violating Laila's ass over and over again. Deep thrusts, full extractions, then raming re-penetrations past her almost re-sealed anal ring. I continued to push, shove and thrust my cock into Laila's ass over and over again until a familiar pre-climax tingling curled the hair on my balls.

I heard myself grunting like an animal as I squirted glob after glob of cum released from the prison of my testicles. Squirting deep into my step-sister's rectum, surrounding my cock with even more warm gooey stuff as it mixed with the lube in her ass. My hips continued to spasm, shooting blanks from my penis long after the chamber was empty. The sensation of her insides caressing and abrasing the head of my cock induce a series of hip spasms that were far more pleasurable than uncomfortably ticklish.

Sanity faded back into my consciousness, and I found myself gazing at Laila's perspiration speckled tanned back and hearing her heaving panting breaths demanding I, "Don't Stop!"

Like the day before, I fought off my exhaustion to resume weakly shoving my cock in and out of her sun-shadowed ass. My eyes locked on the three sweat-dotted moles on her lower back pointing toward her butt. Struggling to meet her demands, my hands pulled and pushed her hips to and fro rather than having my climax weakened hips and legs do all the work.

As I became more aware of our surroundings, I realized she had one hand on the edge of the dining room table, holding her in place on the chair. I didn't have to think too hard to realize the other one was under her body, feverishly massaging her clit.

"Two more," I commanded, somehow summoning the strength to resume forcing my almost, but not quite, dead cock in and out of her ass. "Cum for me... and make it loud," I demanded. I grunted other words of perverse encouragement, "I'm going to fuck your ass until you cum for me slut... CUM FOR ME NOW!" I shouted at the back of her head.

And, unexpectedly, she did.

Laila's shrieking climax was somewhere between a painful scream, an emotional cry, and a child's giggle fit. I could see her thighs quivering even though both rested on her calves. The top of her back, between her shoulder blades, shaded red, and the arm steadying herself with the table spasmed. She almost fell forward, rolling off the chair, but my cruel Neanderthalian instincts kicked in, and one of my hands reached out to grab her hair. Snaping her head back, keeping Laila from falling away as I found the stamina to resume fucking her ass the way she wanted me to.

With the limited leverage she had, she pushed back again my invasive thrusts, peaking again, this time minus the shrieking. Both of us grunting like the two animals we resembled. Fucking as if I had come across her in some wooded glen and mounted her without warning or consent.

Her climax pushed me to cum again, but without injecting any seed into her rectum this time. She had induced another dry climax and somehow had once again made me climax less than five minutes from my last orgasm. I wasn't sure if I should be thankfully amazed or feel short-changed having cum without actually cumming.

As we both came down from our peak, Laila's hand found purchase on the edge of the table again. Holding herself up enough to be able to catch her breath. My knees were not weak, but both of my oxygen-deprived legs were struggling to keep me upright. I tried to back out, but she moaned a quiet, "No... not yet... wait... please."

I complied, holding my shrinking cock inside her, enjoying the feeling of her anal ring pulsating around my softening cock. She whimpered disappointedly when my penis finally compressed to the point where Laila's gaped asshole couldn't hold onto it any longer.

I accidentally kicked the buttplug she had removed and left on the floor. Bending over, I picked it up, then pushed it into her not yet completely sealed ass. She whimpered again, pleasurably, and as I watched her sphincter contract and sealed itself around the neck of the jewel-capped plug, she exhaled, "You really do love me... don't you."

"I'm just making sure my cum stays where it belongs," I replied, stumbling back onto one of the other dining table chairs, "Inside you," I added with a rushed huff.

Laila slowly twisted her way into an upright position, sitting on her chair only two feet away from mine, both of us heavily breathing as we stared at each other.

"That was a really good report you wrote," I said, having no words that could convey the feeling I had for my step-sister after what we had just shared; again.

"If you don't get an A on that report, your professor is an idiot," I professed honestly.

"The TA grades most of the papers," Laila puffed, brushing away a few strands of hair that had fallen across her face.

"Ok," I nodded, "If you don't get a good grade from the TA, you should take your report to your professor and ask them to grade it. It was that good. I got an A on my report, and yours was more insightful, and your contrasts and comparisons had more detail and seemed more germane than mine. I'm glad we're not in the same class at the same time... that paper could throw the curve and fuck up everybody's grades."

"You really think so?" Laila asked, almost breathing normally again.

"I do," I nodded.

-Making love-

After cleaning up the dining room and inspecting the house one more time, we limited our activities to my room, betting sexual favors on the outcome of various video games.

The bets were never honored as we ended up fucking while playing our games. I used her cunt and ass to take care of myself at least twice while she topped the best score on my favorite First-Person Shooter. I continued to rock my cock in and out of her when it was my turn to play, but her cunt around my cock was just too distracting, and I died three times on screen before I gave up and pumped myself into her until I came again.

After that, Laila then did whatever she could to distract me as I play a racing game. Dancing naked, then masturbating between me and the screen with her favorite toys, eventually growing jealous enough to toss my controller away and suck on me as she made herself cum.

We ended up cuddling and snuggling on my bed, touching, caressing, and generally trying to get the last of our sexual exploration desires out of systems, knowing our parents would return soon. We also did one other thing, something we hadn't done as intensely or honestly since Laila's breakup; we talked.

It's hard not to be honest when you naked and your lover/sister is holding your soft penis, licking it like an ice cream cone while you're using your eyes and fingers trying to memorize her nakedness. Especially the slitted cave of pleasurable wonders below her triangular forest of pubic hair and her chocolate chip nugget topped jelly mountains.

After exploring each other's bodies for a while, we ended up lying next to each other face to face. Laila's intense blue eyes stared into mine as my finger caressed the hair around her temple, then followed the curve of her ear.

"Now," I suggested, "I don't think we can get much more physically intimate; how about we try making love a different way?"

"With other people?" Laila suggested, "We can if you want, but only if we can still have just you and me time."

"God," I exhaled, "You really are the perfect woman for a pervert like me, aren't you."

"I try," she smirked.

"Well," I grinned back, "That suggestion intrigues me in ways I want us to explore... later. Right now, I want to try something else."

"You're not into feet or anything like that?" Laila asked.

"No," I replied, "I want us to make love differently... a way I don't think you have had a chance to experience."

"Ok," her uncomfortable but curious smile replied, "Where do you want me? Do I need to prepare anything?"

"I want you right where you are," I replied, my hand stopping its caresses, holding the side of her face as I confirmed, "Always and forever."

I kissed her lips and backed off when she tried to open her mouth to mine. I pulled my head back but held our embrace as I suggested, "Making love is more than sex. At least it is to me. You are a beautiful woman, and I'm attracted to you for many reasons... but there's a difference between lust and love. I lust for your sex... your body. I love you as my step-sister. Now the hard part starts. You and I need to learn to love who we are and what we can give the other. We have to trust each other... probably more than we trust ourselves."

I could tell by the confused look in her eyes; she didn't quite understand what I was trying to say.

I pushed back, breaking our embrace, moving to the edge of my small bed. Not looking anywhere else but Laila's puzzled blue eyes, I said, "Tell me a secret. Tell me something no one else knows. That's how we build trust, and sharing our secrets is another way you and I can make love... not have sex."

Laila's blue eyes almost seemed to fade to gray or hazel. Her confused facial expression blanked, and her breathing shifted to shallow quick breaths, but not quite panicked or close to hyperventilating.

"Ok," I offered, "I'll go first."

Her troubled manifestations lessened as I inhaled, thinking of something to share. Something meaningful, and yet, personal fears and previous pains strongly suggested I hold back.

"I," I choaked. Then cleared my throat before professing, "I wanted to hate you and your mother when dad brought you two to dinner that night. I hated dad too... especially after your mom saw the ring topping her cup-cake... I mean... he never told me you existed. I never knew the woman he was dating had a daughter... then you and your mom suddenly became part of our family."

"I did..." Laila confessed, "I knew about you... I mean... that you existed."

"But," I countered, "You said..."

"I know," she confirmed, "I was trying to make the best of an awkward situation... and it was easier to lie to you than try to explain."

I understood, and I nodded as much before she asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" I countered.

"Why did you want to hate us?" Laila's eyes no longer grayish-hazel, taking on an innocent baby-blue hue.

I paused for a moment, processing my thoughts, feelings, and perspective of the reality we shared.

"Your Mom... and you," I began speaking with whispered puffs. A volume and tone so low part of me hoped my words would not become a reality or hurt my new lover as I professed, "You both look so much like my mom. At least the way I remember her. Your mom's face is almost a mirror image, and your eyes look into my soul the way mom's used to."

Twisting a little on the bed to admire Laila, I added, "And... your hair... your long dark hair is the same hair I see in my memories of my mother."

"I'm not your mother," Laila replied defensively, then her eyes flared, "You're not having sex with me because I look like your mom... are you?"

"No," I replied defensively, "I don't have an Oedipus complex... at least I don't think I do. I mean... it took me a long time to get over the fact my dad was dating someone who looked like my mom... I mean... except for her hair. Your mom's blonde hair is the only real difference, and that's how I convinced myself that my dad has a type. Mom was his type like Rose is his type. And I had a hard time dealing with that... I mean... I felt like he was replacing my mom with a look-alike... then you showed up."

"What did I do?" Laila replied defensively.

"You existed," I muttered.

"Well," she puffed, "I'm sorry... but I didn't have much say in the matter."

"I didn't mean it like that," I countered, "I... I mean you."

I exhaled, purging my lungs and trying to blow away the mess I had created.

I reached out to caress Laila's face as I offered, "Laila... The only woman I ever loved... for who she was, not her sex or sexuality, was my mom. After she died, I struggled with finding that kind of love again. I mean... I hungered for it. I dated so many girls, hoping to find what I felt for my mom... and I never did. What I was looking for the girls I knew were not yet ready to give me."

My hand stopped caressing, embracing the side of her face and head as I muttered, "Then you appeared out of nowhere... behind your mom... in the doorway that faithful night."

My thumb caressed Laila's cheek as I asked, "Can you imagine what it's like to live with not one but two women who remind you of the one woman you loved... to see them every day, yet unable to be with them?"

"Yes," Laila smiled.

-Interruption-

She was about to explain when her phone began singing a playful ring-tone.

Laila rolled off my bed, running to her room via our shared bathroom as her phone began repeating the cheerful tune. Watching her return, casually walking into my room naked as she talked on the phone, made my cock stand up again. Her face and eyes radiated pure prideful lust when Laila saw my tired cock rise to attention upon her entrance. I wasn't listening to her conversation as she wiggled and danced before me, moving closer, offering me a full 360-degree viewing experience of her nakedness.

She moved into my personal space, her fingers grasping the back of my head before pressing my face between her breasts as she continued her conversation. I couldn't see Laila from my happy place, but I could hear her continue her conversation as if nothing untoward was happening on this side of the call.

Sooner than I would have liked, just as I was starting to lift my tender kisses out of her cleavage valley, striking out on an expedition up her fleshly mountains, seeking out her chocolate morsels to suck on, when she pushed me away. Still sitting on the edge of my bed, she dropped to her knees, holding my cock with one hand, looking up at me, suckling the tip of my penis as she listened to the voice mumbling from her phone.

Laila pulled back, still holding my cock to her mouth like a microphone, while looking up at me as she said, "No," winking at me as she explained, "It didn't go as planned. Turns out he's an even nicer guy than I told you he was. But, he did admit he didn't realize Mistress Alla-i was an anagram."

She suckled on the head of my cock as I watched, knowing my face expressed both amazed satisfaction as well as curiosity. My cock pulsated like a milkshake straw until she pulled back to speak again, "No. He surprised me. He refused to play the game... I had to explain it to him," her face glowing at me past my semi-hard penis, adding, "but after I did... God, I love him even more."

Laila blew me a kiss before she resumed suckling on the head of my penis. She mumbled a few "Umm-Hmms," as she listened to the phone continuing to suckle on my cock and stroking me while staring at my face or staring into the depths of my belly button as she listened.

"Yes," she pulled back to say. Nodding at me as she confirmed, "Yes, he agreed to help... but I can't promise whoever we find for you will be as wonderful, or loving, or can last as long as my step-brother can."

Shouts and screams flowed from Laila's phone, and she held it away from her head as I suggested, "I assume you didn't tell her I was your step-brother?"

"Uh," she stammered, winking at me as she replied, "I must have left that part out."

-One, maybe two more-

Laila's phone beeped through the excited noise and screeches coming from her phone. She looked at the display, pulling back from me, standing up and stepping away as she said, "It's mom."

Turning away, aiming her perfect ass toward me as she shouted at the phone, "Sorry Joann, I'll have to call you back. I've got another call."

Laila tapped her phone a couple of times; then, with her naked back, and perfect ass facing me, she spoke quietly, submissively, so low I could not understand the context of her short, one-word replies.

She turned back after ending the call, her formerly bright, beautiful blue eyes expressing the sadness of a lonely puppy dog as she said, "My mom and your dad are coming back early. They're about two hours away and said they were stopping to pick up Greek for dinner."

"So," I smirked, "We have time for one, maybe two more... and another shower?"

"Would you do that thing to me again," she begged, "The one on the couch yesterday... with my crystal butt plug... Please? Then I'll do anything you want for you."

"Two things," I directed, "First, finish what you started," I replied, nodding at my now firm erection, "Then I'll... make Capricorn sing you to nirvana and back. I'll tell you what I want from you for my second request... later."

"Is that what we're calling my glass butt plug," Laila's devilish smirk warmed my heart as she returned to her previous position between my knees. "If you're willing to try and make Capricorn sing inside me again," she seductively suggested, "Then let's see what kind of music I can make blowing Aries' Horn."

You might think that after the marathon two-person orgy Laila and I had experienced yesterday, and since waking up this morning, we'd be all sexed-out. But we weren't. And, as some of you are aware, the last blowjob you got is always the best blowjob you've ever had, as was the one my step-sister gave me at that moment. It was as if she had been holding back, restraining herself, or not using all of her skills and talents at the same time until now. This time, like the grand finale of a firework show, she gave me everything she had... and more.

My step-sister is a slut; but she's my slut. Demonstrating as much with the most intense, slurpiest, sloppiest, noisiest cock-sucking and cum extracting effort she had given me all weekend. It was the complete opposite of the tender, loving, and self-sacrificing pleasure she gave me in the kitchen. This oral effort demonstrated her dark side doing her best to be the sex-toy she wanted me to see her as, the way she saw herself.

The vacuum she created made my cock felt like she was blowing me up like a balloon inside her mouth. I'd never felt so full, so hard, so ready to burst. When the tip of my cock wasn't assaulted by her tongue, the back of her throat tried to swallow my entire length.

My hips gyrated, thrust up, and my eyes were leaking from the intense pleasure she induced with her mouth and hands. Both hands were working my shaft and balls when her lips focused on the head of my cock. One or two fingers had found that spot under and behind my balls that prevented me from coming, prolonging the torturous pleasure she injected into my body and brain through my groin.

When she finally set me free, it was on her terms. She released the valve she had been holding closed, liberating the now unrestrained torrent of seminal soldiers rushing to escape the captivity of my balls. Laila must have taken a deep breath before she allowed me to cum, as she shoved my cock to the back of her mouth where the silky, warm velvet of her throat tricked my cock into thinking it was kissing her womb. Every intensely pleasurable squirt of my cock went directly into her throat, and I felt like I would never stop cumming.

I also realized how she must feel when I can induce full-body spasms from her when I make her climax as my body was doing the same. My hips and groin were the pivot point as my legs spasmed, and my torso bounced while my fingers dug into the sheets and my head twisted from side to side.

Oh, and I was grunting and groaning so loud I was worried the neighbors might hear me.

Laila continued to intentionally induce body tremors and twitches long after my balls shrunk to the size of raisins. I heard her inhale deeply through her nose before she resumed teasing and torturing me. Playing with my cock until it retreated, shrinking away to the point where she could barely kiss the tip of my subjugated penis as it sought to find refuge in my depleted scrotum.

Still, on her knees, she looked up past my shrunken penis; she playfully declared, "My turn."

Standing up, leaning proudly over my exhausted body, she kissed me, the lingering aroma of my cum on her breath as she said, "I need a few minutes to make sure everything is clean back there."

"Take your time," I puffed at the ceiling, then as she departed, I commanded, "But don't put it inside... I want to."

"Yes, my love," her voice echoed from the bathroom.

I didn't mean to, but I fell asleep waiting for Laila to return. I don't know how long I was out, but I woke to find her on the bed, on her knees, aiming her spread thighs at my head. The humming of her massager waking me from my perverted slumber, easing my transition from the orgy in my mind to seeing her separated, bent legs funneling my attention to her groin.

"Please," I heard her begging, "Can I cum... please let me cum for you."

I rolled over onto my side, my eyes remaining locked on her massager hidden pussy. Hoping to wake to such a wonderful view often, I calmly directed, "Not yet... and move your toy up a little higher. I want to see your lips."

Laila whimpered but complied, raising the massager's ball high enough I could see her glossy labia, both pair. Her outer labia were inflamed and puffy, her inner labia flowering open, pulsating almost as if they were breathing.

"Ok," I authorized, "You may cum for me."

The pent-up tension quaked out of her, her entire body trembling and shaking as she allowed herself to climax, with my permission. She silently screamed at the ceiling when her head flopped backward, but I wasn't interested in how her body reacted. My attention was focused on her quivery quim.

Sitting on her feet, the ball of the massager ground against her clit, but her lips were visible to me. Her outer labia flushed a dark red, and her inner pink lips vibrated and pulsated, not echoing the massager but throbbing in and out independently.

What I could see of her vagina's entrance throbbed and convulsed, empty, yet hungering to feel something to embrace. My hand reached out without touching her legs, and without warning, the tip of my index finger teased her budding inner lips.

Laila's silent climax transformed into a room-filling scream as a flush of feminine fluids washed over my hand, soaking into the sheets of my bed. I had made her squirt again, this time leaving me a souvenir of our time together, something I hoped would lull my sinuses to sleep every night she did not share my bed.

When her cunt stopped spraying my hand, arm and bed, her body spasmed and twitched several more times before she pushed the massager away from her groin.

Puffing at me, she apologized, "We're not going to have time to wash your sheets."

"I don't want to," twisting my head to look up at her, pulling my wet hand to my face. Inhaling deeply, closing my eyes as I savored her feminine musk, I cooed, "This way, I can sleep with you without actually sleeping with you."

"You know you're just as fucked up as I am," Laila chastised, then purred, "And I love you for it... before you go to sleep tonight, I want you to cum on my pillow... so I can smell your love all night long."

"I saw a video where a woman let her man cum up her nose," I teased.

"That's sick," Laila giggled, "Maybe even too sick for me... but still."

"How long was I asleep," I asked, changing the subject, "Do we have time to make Capricorn sing?"

"We do," she glowed, "And just enough time for a quick shower after."

"Let's get to it," I directed, sitting up on the edge of the bed, suggesting, "How about I sit up with the headboard behind me, and you lay across my lap again?"

As we settled into position, she kissed the tip of my penis before stretching out across my lap, once again presenting the gift of her ass and cunt to me for my exploration and perverted abuse. I spend some time lubing her butthole with my fingers before inserting the transparent 3-D spade-shaped plug into her ass... several times.

I think I've mentioned it before; how much I enjoy watching her anal ring stretching and pulling as I pushed and pulled the greased glass in and out of her ass. Her cunt was there for my use to, poking, probing, or teasing her slimy lips as my other hand toyed with and tortured her asshole.

I surprised her with a quick climax, massaging her secret button inside her vagina, squeezing it against the hard curved side of the buttplug in her ass. Her thighs quivered as my finger circled and pressed on the small nub between her cunt and rectum.

When she started to peaked again, I made Capricorn sing.

Laila's butt jiggled, her legs shook, and her arms convulsed as she screamed into my mattress. Her vocabulary reduced to the repeated phrase, "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" accented and broken up by quiet panting barks, yipes, and long whimpering shrieks.

I could have done that to her forever, content to make my lover endure an eternity of perpetual climaxes, but she couldn't.

Laila passed out.

Her body fell limp across my lap, and even though I continued to make Capricorn sing into her ass, and my finger kept pushing her hidden climax button, all I could induce were a few unconscious twitches.

I stopped making her glass buttplug resonate in her ass but continued to tease, touch, probe, and caress her lifeless pussy nestled at the top of her limp thighs. I pushed one of her legs open, improving my access to her cunt, allowing me better access to her fur, lips, and so my fingers to get deeper into her hot, slimy depths.

She continued to be non-responsive, even after I rolled her off my legs. I spread her thighs as wide as I thought I could without hurting her, then stared at her cunt; admiring its intricate and complex beauty for a few moments.

Then I dined.

Between her cock-sucking and the butt stuff she enjoyed, I had not had as many opportunities as I would have liked to go down on her. So I took advantage of the situation. I snuggled my face between her thighs, then allowed my tongue to roam freely around and inside her silky, sex-infused cave of pleasure. Once again, I had no urgent need to get myself aroused and mount her, finally accepting I could do that to her anytime I wanted. Reminding myself, she wanted me to use her for my pleasure and licking her labia and tonguing her cunt was what I wanted to do at the moment.

It was an ego rush when she woke, panting and huffing through a head-crushing, thigh-clenching climax. Her legs spasming on either side of my ears made me dizzy for a moment, but I didn't stop, and neither did she. Her hands found my hair, digging her nails into my scalp as she tried to shove my face into her cunt, or pull me inside her body.

Returning the tortuous favor, I refused to stop what I was doing to her, even when she tried to back away. My arms wrapped around her thighs, locking her in place as I continued to dine on my lover's delectable feminine buffet.

When she finally pushed my head away from her clenched thighs, I could hear her cursing as her body continued to spasm and twitch, and the goosebumps on her arms said more than words ever could. Laila's passionate tirade once again proved the word Fuck is the most versatile word in the English language. Even after I raised my face from between her legs, she continued to pant, huff, and puff a fascinating variety of tonalities, accents, and pronunciations of the word 'fuck' as if it was the only word in her vocabulary.

I pushed myself up, raising myself with my arms to find her face expressing multiple emotions simultaneously. A confused expression mixed with a post-climax flush of satisfaction, overlapping with passion, love, and the unmistakable look of fear in her eyes. All accompanied by a steady stream of tears rivering down the sides of her nose.

Before I could ask, she blurted out, "I don't deserve you!... What the fuck! ... Why are you so good to me? ... FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!... if you ever leave me, I don't know what I will do... FUCK!... FUCK! Anything you want... I'll do it... you want to cum up my nose... Sure ok... I'll learn to like snorting your cum if that's what you want. You want to fuck me in front of my mom and your dad... just do it... I don't care... just don't you ever leave me... Please...HOLY FUCK!... what the hell is wrong with you... no one can do the shit you do to me... it's not real... you're not real; you can't be real... you're the devil and loving you is my hell... What the FUCKING HELL... FUCK!... FUCK!... FUCK!"

Laila continued to curse at me as I crawled up and over her, pinning her down. With my body on top of hers, her tirade faded to silence as I calmly declared, "I love you too," smirking as I added, "and you owe me one more special request."

"Anything," she puffed defeated, smothering the last of the doubts that floated around in her mind, "I'll let you do anything you want to me."

I kissed her tenderly, teasing her tongue with mine before rolling off her and the bed as I said, "Later... and remember... you agreed to let me do anything I wanted to you," as I walked into the bathroom.

-Power Shift-

Laila and I showered together, both of us taking advantage of the confined space of the shower in our Jack and Jill bathroom. Both of us touching, caressing, and doing our best to stimulate our lover, but also using what may be our last time to feel each other's complete and total nakedness without fear of discovery for quite some time.

During one of our soapy pirouettes, she casually asked, "Would you like to fuck me again before our parents get home? I can bend over, and you can fuck my pussy or my ass... I'm still clean back there. Or, would you like me to suck on your cock and swallow all of your wonderful cum... you can cum on my face if you want."

It was hard to see in the shower, but I could tell her eyes were tearing up as she confessed, "I don't know how else to show you how much I love you... need you... please... Tell me what I can do to show you how much you mean to me... anything... anything you want."

I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I broke my step-sister. Maybe broken is the wrong word; she was already broken. But, she was different. The hunger she had for my sex was still there, but... in a more subdued or submissive way, or, at least, not as aggressive. Yesterday she wasn't afraid to tell me what she wanted, to tell me how she needed to feel loved. At that moment, behind her lost and confused blue eyes, I could see something had changed. And I realized just how important my response was going to be, not only to her but also to me... to us.

"You have given me your body," I replied quietly, locking my eyes on her, "That is a gift few can appreciate. Trust me when I say I cherish and respect what you are willing to sacrifice and do to yourself to pleasure me. I will use your sex because you want me to... to remind you that I'm willing to show you my love for you in a way you can understand. I also promise never to hurt you intentionally... but I need you to realize and accept something before we go any further."

Laila nodded without looking away, and that to me was a good sign.

"Just as you want to use your body to pleasure me, I want to give you pleasure. I need you to understand this is not a competition. You want me to use your sex whenever I want so you can feel wanted... desired. I want to make you cum so hard and so often because that how I want to express my love for you... making you cum is how I want to show my love for you."

"Fuck," Laila's lips puffed.

"You have to allow me to enjoy pleasuring you... no faking either... if you're not feeling it, let me know so we can try something else. Just as you want me to use your sex for my pleasure... I want to pleasure you... or watch you pleasure yourself... and sometimes it will be extreme... like making Capricorn sing into your ass... because that's what I want to do to you... for you."

Laila's lips quivered, unable to verbalize a response, which to me was a good start for her. I pulled her closer, our soapy bodies sliding tighter as I directed, "I need you to give me something else... something more... something I don't think you've ever given anyone... or maybe you have, and that's what happened to you."

"Anything," her lips puffed, "I will do anything to be loved by you."

"Trust me," I implored, "Trust me to care for your heart, just as I am trusting you to care for mine."

The tears she had been trying to hold back erupted from her eyes. Laila slammed her face to my chest, then bounced her head against me as if she were banging her head against a wall. She then twisted around me, keeping her back to me as she rinsed off then exited the shower wordlessly.

I called out to her as I rinsed off the lingering soap. I stepped out of the shower just in time to see and hear the pocket door to her room slam closed.

I dried off, then straightened up my room, staring at the sex stains on my bed before I made it, wondering if I had pushed her too far too fast. I wanted to go to her, but something in the back of my head told me she needed time. She needed time to process what we shared and what I had said. Time to adjust to the unfamiliar reality we created over the weekend. She also had to come to grips with the power shift I don't think she was expecting to occur when she engineered her plan to gift her sex to me via her alias Mistress Alla-i and the false talismans Aries' Horn.

I needed time to process what had happened between us too.

-Under my thumb-

Appropriately clothed for dinner with our parents, I waited in the living room watching an old sitcom on the big screen. Laila appeared wearing a tight t-shirt without a bra to hide her milk-chocolate morsels above a short skirt that almost exposed her hidden treasure.

Laila stood before me, lifting the front of her micro-mini skirt to reveal her pantyless crotch and the furry triangle above her puffy slit. I reached out with my hand, my finger tracing the line of her lower lips before I sucked her slipperiness from fingertip while staring into her loving eyes, professing, "I love you too,"

She dropped her short skirt as she insisted, "I don't understand you... but I will trust you... I will do whatever you want me to, and so help me... if you hurt me."

"I could say the same," I challenged a little too defensively before she could utter her threat, "I'm just as emotionally invested in this as you are... you're not the only one who's risking their heart in this relationship."

I could taste the venom of my tone after saying that, and I took a breath to calm my irrational fears before I calmly confessed, "I'm just as committed to us and just as afraid of what would happen to me if I lost you as you are of losing me."

I could see the doubt and conflict behind her eyes, a confused turmoil boiling between her ears, made worse when I suggested, "I love what you're wearing, but... you're my slut... and until I say otherwise, your sex is mine and mine alone. Besides, I'm not sure your mom would like to see you wearing something so... transparent around me... and dad... assuming you still want to keep what we're doing with each other a secret."

Her face drooped before I added, "But, I like knowing you're not wearing any panties... for me. I strongly suggest you put on a less revealing top and a longer skirt... but no panties," I added with a playful smirk.

Her face glowed before she walked away, and over my shoulder, I directed, "Hurry back... you still owe me my special request."

I had switched off the sitcom and changed the TV to a music station before Laila returned. I met her just past the archway to the living room, reaching out to take her hand when she exited the hallway. I pulled her close, embraced her, then we locked eyes as our bodies began to sway with the love song wafting from the TV's speakers.

"Fuck," Laila whimpered, relaxing into my embrace, then whispering, "Do you know how wet you just made me."

"Let's find out," I replied, reaching down to unzip my shorts. I lifted Laila's skirt, then wiggled my erection between her thighs, and she pressed her hips tighter to mine. We continued to slow dance with her slippery cunt kissing my cock, while my nose kissed hers. Our swaying nose-to-nose embrace became a mouth-to-mouth expression of mutual affection. Her breathing softened, and I felt the sexual tension between her legs dissipate as well. We shared that pseudo-sexual embrace for three songs until a commercial came over the streaming service.

I stepped back, zipping myself up, directing, "You may want to go clean up before dad and Rose get here... and you still owe me my special request.

"That wasn't it?" Laila asked.

"No," I replied, "That was... that was me trying to show you there are other ways to make love than feeling my penis inside you."

"Fuck," she muttered, "Do you have any idea what that kind of shit does to me," walking away mumbling, "I swear if my heart stops one more time, it's not starting again," looking back at me from under the archway, pointing as she declared, "If I drop dead for no reason... you're the reason."

"I love you too," I smiled, turning around, adjusting my stiff crotch before sitting back down on the couch just as the Rolling Stones explained what just happened;

"Under my thumb

The girl who once had me down

Under my thumb

The girl who once pushed me around

It's down to me

The difference in the clothes she wears

Down to me, the change has come

She's under my thumb."

-Leo's Shuffle-

With my spine continuing to tingle and the ethical and moral parts of my brain kicking into overdrive, the Rolling Stones faded into the upbeat tempo of Harold Faltermeyer's Axel-F. The synapses in my brain firing in sync with Harold's keyboarding as I processed and pondered the significance of the Rolling Stone's insight into the relationship I was forging with Laila and the mantle of responsibility I seemed oddly eager to take on.

Laila jolted me out of my deep thoughts, yanking me back to reality with her questionable pitch and mangled lyrics as she vocalized the song transitioning into the room through the TV.

"Leo misspoke that day he left the shack

But that was all he missed, and he ain't comin' back

At a tombstone bar in a juke joint car, he made a stop

Just long enough to grab a handful of the tart

Next stop Chinatown Leo put the mic down and let it roll

He said, One more job oughta get it

One last shot 'fore we quit it

One for the road

Leo, whoa, oh-oh-oh

He's for the money, he's for the show

Bleed all the way home.

Leo, whoa, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh"

I watched her performing for me, swaying and dancing with me as her private audience for as long as my respect for good music could tolerate her slaughtering of the actual words. I turned off the TV before the love of my life could abuse Boz Scaggs' lyrics any further, correcting her, "It's Lido... not Leo,"

"What?" Laila stopped singing, asking, "Why did you turn it off... I like that song."

"I like it too... but it's called the Lido Shuffle, not Leo's Shuffle," I replied, patting the back cushion of the larger of the two sofas, inviting Laila to join me, "Sit down... please... and no touching... you can't touch me, or yourself until I say you can."

Pouting like a six-year-old in trouble with her parents, Laila followed my direction. Pulling her knees together as she dropped her butt onto the sofa, either as a defensive response or maybe because my disappointed parental tone made her regressed into some ultra-submissive state of mind.

I regretted having to stop her while enjoying herself, relaxed and comfortable enough with me to share and expose a vulnerable side of her personality.

I stared at my step-sister, my lover and, the broken child who had given me a new purpose - to help her heal herself. I had no idea where to start, so I convinced myself to dive in head and heart first.

I inhaled, held it, then let it out slowly. After inhaling again, I said, "Now I want you to honor your agreement to grant me my special request."

"Now," she replied, "Our parents could get home at any time."

"It's non-sexual," I replied, "You did say you would do anything for me... anything to make me love you more than I already do."

Laila nodded, her blue eyes seemingly retreating along with the departing excited curiosity expressed on her face.

"I shared my secret... it's your turn... talk to me," I insisted with a harsher tone than I intended, "Tell me what happened to you. I know something happened... something traumatic... part of loving someone is trusting your lover has your best interest in mind at all times. Please... trust me enough to let me try and help you."

Laila's breathing sped up; shallow, rapid breaths panted quietly from her nose while her eyes seemed to lock onto the edge of the coffee table where I had bent her over and fucked her while watching porn the day before and right after breakfast this morning.

"I didn't tell you everything about Richard," Laila muttered through word restricting lips, "What he did to me... made me do for him... for them... how he lied to me... hurt me... used me."

"How?" I asked, wanting her to share at her own pace.

"We started dating in High School," she puffed through the repressed emotions trying to escape her tight-lipped mouth. "I thought he was going to love me forever... but I know now he was just using me."

Laila's puffy eyes rose to meet mine as she confessed, "He used me... lied to me... I trusted him with my heart, and he took my virginity instead, then passing me off to someone else... to everyone else when some new girl came along."

I slid across the couch, wrapping my arm around her, and she snuggled next to me, detailing through panting breaths how her former boyfriend had introduced her to a college sex cult of some kind. From what I could piece together from her mumbled sobs into my chest, he gained a higher status bringing a virgin into the group and taking her virginity in front of everyone. He then let several other frat brothers use her before she became part of their shared harem.

I quickly began to understand why she felt the need to be used sexually to feel loved. Richard and the others had brainwashed her into believing love and sex were the same; more sex meant more love. They had programmed her to believe freely offered sex meant endless love. He or they also had a particular fascination with anal sex, which they had done to her so often, Laila's psyche twisted and contorted and embraced the idea.

It didn't take long for her to accept, and maybe embrace, her role as the group's free-use sex slave. They brainwashed her into believing spontaneous and unannounced sex was a normal and necessary part of a loving relationship, in much the same way others used hugs and kissed to express their loving affection. At some point, they broke her, and her mind surrendered, submitting to or integrating the need for sex into her very being, all of which explained why she equated sex with love and hated herself for enjoying it as much as she did.

Laila sobbed into my chest, and I comforted her as best as I could. I didn't have the life experiences or skills to know what to say or how to do more than just hold her. I also found myself stewing in a vat of guilt for enjoying the two-person orgy we had shared over the past 30 hours or so. Allowing Laila to allow me to want to rape my step-sister, then use her sex as I had. I struggled to rationalize what we shared, and what I did to her was an indirect result of what someone else (many others) had done to Laila, that and my self-serving, sexual desires.

Her puffing whimpers faded, and I could feel her squeezing me closer, pressing the side of her face tighter to my chest. My arms pulled her closer as she tried to crawl inside me, and in the process, coiling herself even tighter around my heart.

Other than her irregular breathing and sniffles, the house was silent; the only place not void of noise was the space between my ears, which had become a criminal court of self-recrimination. The prosecution offered a weekend of perverted sexual use and abuse of my step-sister as it's primary evidence of my depravity. Topped off with my willingness to knowing use an aphrodisiac to allow me to use my sister's sex for my purposes without her consent or knowledge.

"It wasn't real," my defense council declared.

"It not a matter of being real," the prosecution countered, "It demonstrates intent."

"Intent," bounced around in my head as I held my broken step-sister in my arms, doing my best to comfort and console her as the judge of my mental court contemplated my penance. Some punishment that was worthy of the crime I had committed in my mind and against the woman I now knew I loved far more than I expected I could ever love anyone.

It had been an exhausting weekend, physically and now mentally.

I realized Laila sharing her trauma on me had taken its toll on her when I noticed she had stopped crying and fallen asleep cuddled up next to me, with her hand resting on my groin.

I kissed the top of her head, settled into the sofa. Turning on the TV, I hoped to distract myself from the recriminations court in my head, seeking a just penance for my actions and intentions. I found a rerun of one of my two favorite Westerns; the one with Dean Martin and John Wayne, not the other one with Robert Mitchum and Jame Cann, which is equally as good.

The heroes were putting together their plan when Rose and dad entered through the garage.

I quickly moved Laia's hand from her sleeping grasp of my crotch before Rose approached, reaching out to caress Laila's head from behind the sofa, asking, "Did you two stay up late last night?"

"Yeah," I replied, not lying to Laila's mother but not saying anything more either. The TV's screen flashed dark, transitioning to a commercial, and I noticed something different about Rose's reflection, but I couldn't quite make out what it was. Rose's mirror image disappeared when the commercial started, and dad joked, "Well, at least they didn't kill each other."

Rose stepped around to the space between the coffee table and the smaller sofa, and when she did, my heart skipped a beat. Her blonde hair was gone, replaced with the same raven sheened coat that Laila wore, the same hair that framed my mother's face in my memories. Her pale skin had also darkened by almost two shades, not as tanned as Laila's creamy caramel but far browner than she was three days before.

I could not stop myself from staring at my mother's younger doppelganger, a youthful clone and yet, the same woman who had married my father almost a year ago. Rose leaned in close to me, using her finger to roll back Laila's long hair from her face, seeing her daughter had cried herself to sleep while cuddled up next to me.

My mother's hair, face, and eyes looked up at me through Rose, and I could not stop myself from responding to her unasked question, "She told me what happened."

Rose dropped to her knees in front of Laila and me, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Laila's face and mine as she exhaled, "You mean... whatever happened to her that last year of High School?"

Looking away from my mother's younger self just long enough to turn off the TV, I looked back, hoping it was just my imagination.

It wasn't.

Kneeling before me, Rose looked like my mother in the few pictures I had seen of her with dad in their wedding photos. And, the memories of my mother in my mind looked like Rose, both wearing the same dark mane, motherly expression of concern, and blue eyes that looked right through me.

It was my mother's face and eyes that began to tear up as Rose caressed Laila's hand on my thigh, "Laila and I use to be so close... then when we moved back here... she... I mean, we... grew apart, and I don't know why. Something happened after her eighteenth birthday, and for several months she barely spoke to me. Not until after she graduated and your father and I married. For a while, it was all I could do to keep her from moving out... leaving me."

"She agreed to move in with us here after we made her the same offer we made you," dad explained from behind the sofa, "As long as you stay in school full time and keep your grades up, we'll provide you a place to live, food, and a car."

I ignored dad, my eyes locked on Rose as she pleaded with me, "I love her so much, but she wouldn't let me in... she stopped talking to me about... everything."

"What did Laila tell you," dad asked from over my shoulder.

My eyes still seeing my mom's face on Rose as I answered, "She asked me not to tell you... to tell anyone. I promised her I wouldn't."

I heard both dad and Rose inhaled deeply, then exhale at the same time. Rose stood up. She looked down at me, still looking like my mom in my mind, this time replaying a parental expression of my mother when I did or said something wrong as a child. Both mom's memory and Rose seemed annoyed, frustrated, and understanding at the same time.

I couldn't see dad behind me, except for his ambiguous reflection on the big screen. But my mom's eyes on Rose's face aimed at him told me dad and Rose were communicating silently with each other.

Dad appeared in my peripheral vision, moving toward Rose, guiding her toward the other sofa.

"Son," he said solemnly after they both settled into place next to each other, clasping the back of Rose's hand as he looked at me, "Rose and I need to tell you something... if you're willing and able to keep your sister's secret, then I think we can trust you with ours."

"I'm not trading her secrets for yours, dad," I countered, sounding more defensive than I intended to.

"No," he replied, a slight prideful smile on his face as he confirmed, "I'm not negotiating. I'm trusting you with our secret just as Laila trusted you with hers... a family's secret. Something I think you're ready to hear... ready to know."

"But," he cautioned, briefly glancing at Rose before telling me, "I'm not sure Laila is emotionally prepared for what we want to share with you... tell you... both of you."

Pausing to take a breath as he glanced at Rose again, this time wordlessly asking for permission to continue. She nodded, and he resumed, "From what Rose has told me, whatever happened to Laila in High School may have left her... unable to deal with what I need you to know... what I want you to know."

"You're not going to tell me I'm adopted, are you?" I questioned, half-serious and half concerned I might be right.

"No," he smirked again, knowing I had inherited some of his sense of humor.

Nodding at Laila, dad suggested, "See if you can slide out from under Laila, and we'll talk in my office. I don't want to risk Laila overhearing what I have to share with you... at least not yet."

"I'll get a blanket," Rose offered, squeezing dad's thigh, then kissing his cheek.

In a well-timed and orchestrated escape, Rose blanketed Laila as I slid out from under her, and dad slid a pillow under Laila's head, leaving my step-sister sleeping on the larger of the two sofas. Rose kissed Laila again before heading toward the kitchen as I followed dad into his office.

-What happened to Rose-

"Dad," I asked hesitantly out of earshot of his wife, "What happened to Rose?"

"Nothing," he replied, sounding confused and concerned, turning to watch her enter the kitchen with the bags of food they brought home, "Why?"

"Her hair," I muttered, "and how did she get so... tanned so fast?"

"Well," dad commented, watching Rose until she was out of sight, "I guess that's part of what I want to talk to you about."

Dad's office was small, made even more cramped since it also doubled as our storage room for things that had no other place to be. It was also where I usually found myself when dad wanted to impart parental guidance, bad news, or pass sentence on my youthful indiscretions.

He closed the door behind him after waiting for me to enter first. I unfolded the only other chair in the room beside the one behind his desk. We both sat down pretty much at the same time. He started off doing whatever he could to avoid starting the conversation. Asking questions and not hearing my answers regarding the weekend, school, and friends I had not seen since graduation.

"Raymond," dad's tone changing and using my full name warn me of the seriousness of the words that were about to follow. Mom's cancer, mom moving to hospice, the drive home after mom died, 'the talk,' and his dating Rose all started the same way.

"You're old enough to understand that some people live different lifestyles," dad stammered to explain, "Some are very faithful to their religion; others prefer to follow a different path. Where most relationships are between a man and woman exclusively, others could be between two men, two women, or perhaps more."

"I'm not gay," I chided defensively, "If that's what you're asking... and I know several people who are who would be offended by the assumptions you're making."

"No," he replied, dropping his head, "That's not what I'm asking or saying."

Looking back up at me as he said, "And if you are, that's ok. Being gay is not a lifestyle choice... I mean, it is for some, but it's more biology than anything else."

"Are you trying to tell me you're gay... or bi?" I asked.

Dad shook his head, looked down, and growled, "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about... why do you have to make this kind of stuff so difficult."

"I'm not trying to be difficult," I replied, hoping to sound as diplomatic as possible, "But you do understand, the only time you want to talk to me... in your office is when I'm in trouble, or you have bad news to tell me."

He looked up, his eyes had softened, and he nodded as he said, "You're right... I guess I didn't realize that... I'm sorry... but... it's not bad news... I think... sorry, this is not easy for me... so... give me a second... ok?"

I nodded, wondering if he somehow knew what Laila and I had been doing all weekend, looking around their bedroom in my mind, trying to find a hidden camera of some kind, then expanding my mental search to every other room in the house.

"Rose and I spent the weekend with relatives," he started to explain, "They live a very different lifestyle than most."

"How so?" I asked.

"Well," he hesitated, "For one... they are nudists, and... they express their love for each other in non-traditional ways."

"Nudism would explain Rose's tan," I offered as a verbal compromise, "What do you mean non-traditional ways?"Dad responded to my comment and not my question, "She wanted to change her hair color, and I suggested she go back to her natural color... the same color she had when I met her and her mother."

"You said you and she and mom were close when you were younger," I presented as a peace offering, not backtracking to the question he avoided answering.

Dad looked down at the ground again, muttering to himself before looking up, declaring, "Ray," his words trying to escape before exploding from his chest like an old steam whistle venting an engine on the edge of rupture, "Your mother is my first cousin. And Rose is your mother's daughter from another man... your mother's father... Rose is your half-sister and your mother's half-sister... and her daughter."

Looking up at me, his eyes tense and serious as he detailed, "Laila is your half-sister too... she is mine... my daughter... with Rose... which also makes her your niece... and your aunt... fuck it gets more complicated the more I think about it."