by Mary Jaine
"Mum, Finny and me, this is what we want, truly. It's a fantastic offer, it will bring us all we've ever wanted, and we're taking it. I'm sorry mum, I wish we'd been able to tell you another way, but Finny and me, we're...together now, we're staying together, and this is the way to make our future happen!"
Carys' eyes widened as she took in what her daughter had just said. Her face suddenly paled as she exchanged a furtive glance with her own brother before speaking.
"Are you telling me that you two...together...like that...no, you can't, you mustn't, it's wrong..."
Evan interjected before she said something she'd regret.
"Mrs. Elliot, because of the nature of the weekends we host here, we vet our guests rather carefully. Finn and Lara were vetted as a matter of course, and while we were checking them out, this came into our possession."
So saying, he slotted a USB pen drive into a port on the side of the huge TV screen behind him and clicked a remote. A video began playing, Finn, Lara and Carys all gasping as the scene unfolded.
There, on screen, were Carys and her brother, standing in the doorway of a closed shop in Whitchurch market, locked in a passionate kiss, hands roaming over each other, Mike hands openly squeezing and fondling her bottom as they kissed.
Another scene clicked on, this time Mike and Carys leaning against a tree in a park somewhere, kissing again, and this time Carys' hands were quite obviously fondling and squeezing Mike's cock, his own hands cupping her breasts as they kissed
The scene jumped, and now Finn recognised Mike's house in Oswestry. Someone had taken the movie with a long-range lens, the interior of the master bedroom visible through the picture window, and they could quite clearly see Carys on all fours on the bed, Mike kneeling behind her, their features clear and unmistakeable, her brother holding her by the hips as he pounded into her.
There was something wild, and primal, primitive and compelling in watching their mother fuck with such abandon, and Finn felt himself responding, realising as he watched the couple on-screen that his mother was a beautiful, sexual woman, but more than that; he was seeing Lara in twenty years time; she was her mother's daughter in more ways than one, and he had much to look forward to.
Carys had gone white, as had Mike, the blood draining from their faces as their shameful secret was laid bare in front of her children, her expression aghast as Evan clicked off the television.
"So now you're going to...to blackmail me, blackmail us, you'd do that to me? Why? Finn, Lara, don't...I'm..." she whispered, tears of shame in her eyes.
Lara longed to hug her, to tell her that she would never do that, but Evan spoke first, his voice soft and calming
"No-one's blackmailing anyone, Mrs. Elliot; I merely showed you that to underline that everyone here has secrets, so please, no more judging. There's only one copy of this drive, so here, it's yours, we have no use for it, keep it, wipe it do whatever you want with it. Would you like something to drink, some tea, perhaps, something to calm you down?"
Carys nodded gratefully, burying her face in her brother's shoulder as one of the black-suited men nodded and turned away, leaving as silently as he'd arrived.
Mike Kershaw, Lara's Uncle Mike, cleared his throat nervously, drawing their attention to him.
"So if you had that...thing...of us...what next? Lara says she and Finn are together, why do they need to be here, what kind of proposition have you made them? They're still my niece and nephew, still my only family, I think I have a right to know!"
"Shall I answer that?" came Sylvie's voice from the doorway, so Evan nodded, handing the floor to her. Sylvie swayed into the room, and sat gracefully on the other arm of Evan's chair.
"Mrs. Elliot, Mr. Kershaw, may I call you Carys and Mike?" Both nodded, so she continued.
"Carys, Mike, we run a...a club here, a very special, very discreet club, but now we feel it's time for us to go, so we looked for people we thought could trust to take it away from us and do things properly. We found Lara and Finn, and so now all this you see around you, this house, this whole complex, the staff, the fleet of cars, everything here, now belongs to them."
She smiled at their thunderstruck expressions before continuing.
"They are the new owners, and all the privileges and responsibilities that goes with carrying on our work falls on them. But they can't do it alone; they need their family to be there for them as well. This is where you come in, and the reason we brought you here."
She paused to smile at them both.
"The care and upkeep of this place is taken care of. Finny and Lara will each be paid a very generous allowance, and this place is theirs to do with as they please, however they see fit; they're the owners now. Their allowances will make them wealthy, we've seen to that; their futures in that respect are taken care of. What they'll need from you is to know that you support them, that you'll be happy for them. In return, I have a proposition for you, for both of you."
Carys and Mike looked at each other, then warily at Sylvia.
"Go on..." murmured Carys, her expression softening as Sylvie smiled sympathetically at her.
"When Finny and Lara elected to throw-in with us, they became part of our family, a very special part. That also includes you and Mike, if you let it happen; we have it in our power to ensure that Kershaw-Elliot Associates becomes one of the most sought-after and successful architectural practices in the world; we have enough commissions spread among the 600 or so companies we own or control to keep you both busy and in demand for the rest of your lives."
"If we keep our mouths shut and stay away from them, I suppose...!" gritted Mike, to be brought up short by Sylvie.
"Not in the slightest; this is not an attempt to shut you up, or some kind of bribe; you're Finn and Lara's family, we couldn't very well give them everything they wanted and leave you to one side; no, this is a gift from them, not 'hush-money' from us, I promise you. I suspect you and Carys would like to be together. This is your chance; we have properties in Nice, Cannes, San Marino, San Tropez, a dozen other places, and we have no use for any of them, pick one, remodel it to suit you, live there and be together, that's really what you want, isn't it? "
Lara watched her mother as she looked at Mike, her eyes huge as all her dreams were handed to her on a platter.
"Mum...?" she said, almost too soft to be heard, but her mother turned to look at her, then once more gazed at Mike. He picked up at once the longing in his sister's eyes, and his face, so much like Finn's from certain angles, broke into a happy smile.
"Well, when you put it like that...!"
*
EPILOGUE
Finn moved against Lara, his cock pounding into her, Lara mewling in ecstasy as he drove into her again and again, pushing her closer and closer to the brink, until, as his lips clamped over hers, he slid his finger into her tight little anus as he jammed his cock into her as hard as he could.
Lara screamed as orgasm bowled over her, wave after wave of exquisite pleasure lashing and battering at her, a summer storm of perfect ecstasy. Her pussy and anus clamped down on the invaders, the sudden pressure on his cock too much to bear any longer, and Finn groaned out loud, perfect pleasure echoing her perfect storm as endless spurts of spunk sprayed out of him, bathing and filling her every secret, innermost place.
Finn slumped down against his perfect sister, his hand on her smooth belly tracing every trill and quiver as aftershocks raced and surged inside her, slowly dying away into the lassitude of afterglow.
After a while he became aware that the chime was calling, endlessly repeating. Lara grinned as she hoisted herself up on one elbow, pulling the covers over them in some semblance of modesty.
"Yes Haley, is there a problem?" she called, and the big screen on the far wall flicked itself on. Haley Moore's face appeared, a wrinkle between her perfect eyebrows.
"Oh Eewww, what's wrong with you two, get a room!" she grinned.
"Was there something, Hales, or were you just trying to cause coitus
interruptus?" grinned Lara, completely at ease with her best friend and now personal assistant and Head housekeeper, albeit an extremely well-paid and very special housekeeper. Hayley had discovered in herself a talent for organisation bordering on genius, and was instrumental in the spectacular successes of the last several 'Sisterfest' weekends, including a New Year weekend that was going to be well-nigh impossible to top.
It was Hayley's idea to call herself 'housekeeper', although it has to be said, few housekeepers get Ferrari F430's as Christmas presents from their bosses...
"Your mum's on Skype, do you want to get some clothes on, or are you just going to whip the covers off and show her Finn's dick as well?"
"Haley!" sighed Lara, Haley responding with an even wider grin.
"I've said it before, and I'll say it again; Finn, you've got a lovely bum!" she smirked.
"Hales!" gritted Lara, so Haley grinned, winked at them both, and suddenly there was Carys, behind her the blazing whites and brilliant turquoise blue of the Mediterranean. Carys looked like she was fit to burst.
"Lara, look, we did the scan today, it's confirmed, we're having another baby!"
Finn and his sister chatted with their excited mother for a few more minutes before she had to dash, but she left them both excited as well, and Lara more than a little wistful.
"Finny, when do you suppose we can have a baby?" she wondered softly, and Finn, always in tune with his beautiful sister's moods, gathered her in so he could look into her marvellous eyes.
"Tomorrow if you like. We've been playing host here for nearly five years now, we've got a pile of cash set aside, and Evan was asking just the other day if we were ready to follow them, and I have to say, the three of them look good, and happier than ever with a bunch of kids running around them. When you're ready, just say so and I'll be right there with you."
Lara reached up to brush his cheek with her fingertips.
"You really mean that, don't you? As long as I know you mean it, I'll be happy to wait. Maybe one more year, then we'll hold another mid-summer 'Sisterfest' and see if any likely candidates pop out at us, deal?"
"Deal!" he grinned, "I just can't believe mum's popping out yet another one, at her age, too!" which earned him a dig in the ribs from her sharp elbow.
"Mum's only 43, she's not some withered old crone!" she hissed, Finn holding up his hands and grinning in surrender.
"I have to say, though" he conceded, "I'm glad she had another little girl; Morwen's a doll, she looks just like I remember you when you were tiny. I can't wait to make one of my own just like her, no sir, not at all!"
Lara stretched like a cat, her eyes hooded and inviting.
"Then come here, big brother, lets practice; after all, practice makes perfect!"
* * *
Sisterfest Ch. 04: Rejected Sister 01
* * *
Part 1: Rowan
My name is Rowan Redman, and this is the story of how my life began, my real life, not the first twenty-one years or so; I sleepwalked through them, like probably most of my generation. My life actually started when I was twenty-two, when I was still at university, studying for an MSc. in Architectural Engineering and living at home with my mother and my little sister, Naomi, known to the world at large as Nimmie, or just plain Nim.
Mum was an author, writing for various magazines, local interest pieces for the most part, but also several moderately successful children's books under various noms de plume. We were what you could probably call a typical family.
My father did a bunk when I was thirteen; he was an investment counsellor and broker, and when his business took off, so did he, shacking-up with his nineteen year old secretary with tits like basketballs and a brain you could fit in a mouse's ear and still have room for her personality. Mum was heartbroken, as she should have been, but she pulled it all together and carried on, doing the work of two parents because our feckless father didn't want anything more to do with us.
So Dad disappeared from our lives and other than the monthly maintenance payments we never saw or heard from him again, not even the occasional birthday card for his only daughter, and now I was the man of the family for real, all fourteen years of me. Nimmie is a year and a bit younger than me, and polar opposites to me in almost every way. I'm dark haired, with grey-green eyes ('Hazel' mum and Nimmie call them); she's corn-blonde, with startling green eyes; I'm tall and athletic, not exactly buff, but not skinny either, kind of nondescript, and usually badly dressed, and she's petite, usually dressed-down, not a party-girl by any means, but a complete knockout if you take a closer look at her.
We differed in other ways too. I played most sports, but my favourites were tennis and cricket in the summer and rugby and soccer the rest of the year, and I preferred to spend Saturday evenings socialising with my friends, whether clubbing or pubbing, while Nim preferred to study or listen to mum's old Everly Brothers, Roy Orbison, and Skeeter Davis records.
Boys were starting to notice her, and I had my hands full reminding some of the more determined spotty creeps who wanted to try their luck with her that if they came within touching distance of my little sister, they were going home with their dicks nail-gunned to the back of their heads, and if they didn't believe me, they were welcome to try.
Things finally settled down when Nim left school and started university; I'd sort-of accepted she was a grown-up now, so she needed her space, but I didn't let down my guard too far; Nim was gorgeous if you looked beyond the studious look and nerdish air she cultivated. She was studying nursing at the Croydon University hospital, so not a million miles from our home in Caterham, in Surrey; at least it meant I could still keep an eye on her.
She'd grown into a medium height, quietly beautiful girl, with a shapely, feminine, but not extravagant figure, and had taken to wearing her hair twirled-up in a kind of 'bun', as she didn't want to cut it, and the hospital didn't want the nursing trainees draping their hair all over the patients. With her big-rimmed glasses on, and her tightly bound hair, she looked studious and meek, almost invisible, and when not in her nurse's whites or scrubs, slobbed around in my old sweats and T-shirts.
I did notice one thing odd about her, though: no boyfriends. Ever. Mum even went so far as to ask me if I didn't think Nim might be a lesbian, not that it mattered, but I laughed it off. It got me thinking though; never a boyfriend, not even the occasional date. Saturdays invariably saw her sprawled on the living-room floor in sweats or old tracksuit bottoms and tee-shirt, studying, watching TV, or just reading.
If I asked her why, since nurses were all legendarily sex-crazed man-eaters, wasn't she out causing trouble with her pals, she'd just dimple and say she had everything she needed right here, which always unsettled me, for reasons I couldn't understand or explain.
I have to say, though, watching her stretched out on the floor on her tummy, with her ankles crossed behind her, and her bum gently flexing and jiggling as she hand-wrote her notes for the day, was always something I looked forward to, even if I wouldn't admit it to myself.
However, one thing soon made itself apparent to me. For all her efforts to 'dress-down' and look dowdy, I couldn't help but see just what a hottie my little sister really was; when she wasn't wearing drab, baggy old clothes or bathrobes, it was obvious she had a stunning little figure: a tiny little waist, what they used to call a 'wasp-waist', a tight, shapely little bum, and pert boobs that her tiny waist just made look bigger.
The first time I noticed, I couldn't help but notice everything, then felt disgusted with myself, and permanently soiled, for ogling my baby sister like that. Nim never even noticed me noticing, otherwise I felt sure she would have landed me a good slap in the face.
Of course, once I took notice of her, it became impossible to stop noticing her; in fact, it became almost my obsession. Nimmie didn't seem to be that bothered when she blearily wandered down for breakfast on a Sunday morning wearing nothing except one of my old sweatshirts and a pair of tight little panties, and then of cour
se, all I'd be seeing in my mind's eye for the rest of the day would be her taut, round, perfect little bottom in those tightly stretched panties, each well-defined, globular bubble-cheek quivering delightfully atop her long, perfect thighs, and those things jiggling around inside her sleeping top.
It was driving me crazy; I found my sister deliciously attractive, but I was supposed to protect her, not leer at her every opportunity I got; what kind of pervert was I, and what should, or could, I do about it?
In the end, common sense told me to do nothing; if the sight of Nim's legs, or her cute bottom, or her dimples, or her bouncy boobs was getting me all hot and bothered, then I should stop looking. Try to remember she's your baby sister, I told myself sternly; anyone else who had those kind of thoughts is going to be a dead man. Apply the same standards to yourself, you idiot.
So I did, and it was hard, believe me; every night she'd caper through my head, her hot little arse jiggling and her delicious tits bouncing, naked as a jaybird and hot as the hinges of Hell, and I would play with her as she sucked me, and fucked me, and did every nasty, perverted, sexy thing I could dream up, endlessly, all night long.
I never laid a hand on her, not even a lickerish glance, but I laid her down and she drained my balls every single night and the fantasy never got old or worn and jaded, not when the living, breathing, hotly desirable object of all my wicked, feverish fantasies lived at the other end of the corridor.
One day, mum presented me with a brand new, top-spec laptop for university and I discovered the world of HD internet porn in all its glory. Someone once said the internet contains at least two billion pages of porn; even if that's not true, it certainly feels true, after all the stuff I leafed through looking for another way to get my fix, and then I found her. She was the spitting image of Nim. I nearly fell off my chair. The only way I could tell this girl wasn't Nim was the eyes and the chest: she had blue eyes, and a chest like a pair of honeydew melons; other than that, she was Nimmie, in every detail, and she was doing every filthy, dirty, perverted, exciting, endlessly varied thing I'd fantasised about doing with Nim and she looked like she was enjoying every second of it.
