The Bomb Shelter free porn video

This is really fucking long. If you are not willing to wait 5000 words for them to have sex, you should probably find another story. I considered putting it in two or three installments, but didn't want to. This way makes the most sense. I think my next story will be something more fun. Maybe I'll write another Little Sister sequel. Or not. We'll see.

Part One: Sister and Brother

My grandpa has always been, to put it one way, insane. He's brilliant, almost the stereotypical mad scientist. He worked on the atomic bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima. Since then, he has been terrified of nuclear war. He still thinks that the Russians are after us all and that we're all going to be bombed to hell within the next couple of years.

This is why he built the bomb shelter.

Before this story, I had never been in the bomb shelter. The bomb shelter contains four medium-sized rooms: a dining room/kitchen, a living room, a bedroom, and a “study room” from which one can monitor conditions thirty feet above, on Earth. There's also a small bathroom. I know the bomb shelter inside and out, because I spent the last three years of my life there.

My twin sister Felicia and I were seniors in high school, eighteen years old. We hated each others' guts. We were easily the two smartest kids in our class, and vying for the position of Valedictorian. Whoever got Valedictorian would get a free ride to any college. Whoever lost would get nothing.

Our parents had died in a car wreck years before, so we lived with him. We were used to Grandpa and his craziness. It was his craziness, though, that saved our lives.

Me and my sister were sitting together, watching TV when it happened. Grandpa was off giving a lecture to some poor group of scientists somewhere. I think I had The Office turned on.

“Emory, change the channel, the news is on,” said Felicia.

“Fuck you, I want to watch this,” I told her.

“Emory...” She was mad, but that didn't scare me. My sister is a very small woman, barely over five feet tall and with 32-22-34 measurements (I know this now. I know everything about my sister, and she knows everything about me.) She has a pale body, and C-cup breasts. I guess you could say that she looks a little like Katy Perry, but dresses much more modestly. Her face has a sort of haughty beauty. Her entire body seems to shun everyone. The way she walks, the way she speaks, even her face seems to convey the fact that she doesn't need anyone, that she is beautiful and cunning, and that she knows it. And she is, and she does.

She reached out crossly and tried to grab the remote from next to me. I snatched it away from her, stood up, and held it above my head. Being almost six feet tall, she was now incapable of reaching it. She screamed as she jumped up and down. Almost all of the time, my sister seemed intimidating and cold. But when she was put in a situation that she had no control over, she would become scared, angry, frightened. I now know this better than anyone.

Finally, she sat back down. “Fine,” she sniffed. “Let's watch your stupid show.” She resumed being haughty and cold, but for just a second. Suddenly, The Office snapped off and was replaced by that channel's local news anchor. He looked flustered.

“This just in from Washington,” he said, apparently having difficulty keeping a level voice. “We have just received reports that the American stockpile of nuclear weapons has been raided by a militant group who apparently are referring to themselves as 'the Order of Jehovah' some four months ago. At latest report, we have reason to believe that they have found means to smuggle over three hundred nuclear weapons across the world. Two minutes ago this organization released an ultimatum; that they will destroy every living thing on Earth if all world leaders do not issue a statement of repentance-”

I still don't know everything about 'the Order of Jehovah.' From what I had heard, they are a religious fundamentalist group who sought to bring about Armageddon by killing everyone everywhere. I never got to find out any more, though, because the television suddenly faded to static. Felicia looked at me. She no longer looked calm, cool, or haughty. She looked terrified. “What do we do?” she asked.

I whipped out my cell phone and speed dialed Grandpa. This seemed like the kind of moment his craziness might be useful. As the phone rang Felicia flipped through the channels, searching for anything that still came in.

“Static... static... static...” she said, sounding terrified. “Static... static... Fox News... static... static... damn it, why isn't anything on here?” Finally, she hit a channel that was still broadcasting.

“New York destroyed,” the anchor was saying. “Nuclear radiation and fallout is dispersing with the wind to the northeast. Reports of over thirty bombings worldwide, estimates of billions dead...”

Grandpa picked up. “Emory, is that you?”

“Grandpa?”

“All right, listen close,” he said, skipping the greeting. “I need you to listen to everything that I say. I need you and your sister to go to the closet in the basement immediately. In there is a phone. I need you to dial 1-8-7 and then just wait.”

“What? Grandpa?”

“Just do it!” The call ended.

Felicia was shaking all over. She was staring at the TV screen, which had once again turned to static. “Felicia, we have to go to the basement,” I said.

“I... don't... want... to... go.”

“We're going.”

“No.”

Sighing, I picked up her tiny body and began carrying her down the stairs. She struggled, pressing her little butt against me and trying to squirm out. It didn't do any good. As we were about halfway down the stairs, there was a tremor, like an earthquake. We were flung the rest of the way down, landing with a smack on the carpeted floor. Debris fell around us. When it was over, I stood up. Everything seemed fine. I grabbed my sister, who seemed to be in shock, and carried her the rest of the way to the closet. I entered it, pulled her in, and pressed the three numbers on the phone. As I did so, there was an enormous blast. I felt the house collapsing on top of us. But then, the closet began disappearing into the ground, like an elevator... I saw cables around us as we went further and further. The noise from above us died down first a little, then completely... and then the elevator stopped. There was a ding and a door opened.

“Where... where are we?” asked Felicia.

I looked around, staring into the darkness. I couldn't see anything. “Hell?” I guessed.

Part Two: Ends and Beginnings

I stood up and walked forward. My right leg was in great pain, but I didn't think it was broken. As I took the first step forward, dozens of lights switched on. In front of me was a room that looked like it had been taken right out of a history textbook. It was a sizable living room. On one end was an enormous television with a tiny screen, which looked like it was at least fifty years old. Surrounding it were wooden bookshelves filled with old books, although most of them looked like they were in excellent condition. A couch and an old rocking chair were seated in front of the television. An exercise bike, a treadmill and a weight set were sitting in the corner.

“Did we fall into a time machine?” I asked, incredulous.

My sister moaned from behind me. I turned, having forgotten all about her. She was still lying on the elevator floor. Her face looked like it had been scraped but overall she looked fine. I reached out my hand and pulled her up. Her clothes were incredibly ripped and torn. As she stood up, the shirt simply fell off of her body, onto the floor, revealing her thin, pale upper body. She was scratched in a few places, but not too bad. But with her half naked, and her long wavy black hair falling messily over her eyes and face, her wounds weren't what I was thinking about at the moment.

“Oh,” she said softly. “That was my favorite shirt.”

“Let's see what we've got here,” I told her. Next to the living room was the kitchen. I opened all of the drawers. There were hundreds of cans of soup and vegetables. An industrial-sized freezer filled with meat and bread was next to it. There were cans of dried fruit. There was an oven, but no microwave. In one drawer we found ten bottles of whiskey. In another was a single handgun. Only one drawer, a big one, was locked.

On the other side of the living room was a bedroom. Inside was a single full-sized bed and a closet. Within the closet was a lot of clothes: all of them looking like they were from the 1950's. There were suits, ties, button-down shirts, pants, housewife dresses, blouses, poodle skirts. Absent were T-shirts, jeans, or anything that revealed the body below the neck. Next to the bedroom was a bathroom, complete with toilet, shower, and the washer and dryer.

There was a final door, this one emerging from the kitchen. Behind it was the largest room yet. It appeared to be some sort of scientific laboratory. Inside were all sorts of monitors and readouts and things.

“Do you understand any of this?” I asked Felicia.

“No,” she said. She was still topless. I was still staring at her. Bad thoughts were going through my mind. The human race might be wiped out, and I was just thinking of how if me and my sister were the last people... or even some of the last people... wasn't it our duty to...? It would be a pleasant duty.

No... I couldn't be thinking things like that.

A screen suddenly flipped on in front of us. My grandpa's face, much younger, appeared.

“Hello,” he said. “Welcome to my bomb shelter. I had this constructed earlier this year, 1948, because I knew those Russians were going to come after us sometime. And if this message is playing, they have. Nuclear bombs have been dropped.

“I can only hope that I am with you, but I know I won't live forever. So if I'm not: The elevator will not operate until my equipment indicates that the planet's surface is once again suitable for habitation. In the event of a major nuclear strike, this may not be for months, or even years. Everything necessary for survival is here: food, water, clothing, everything. I want you to do your country proud. Be fruitful and multiply. You may be the last humans left in America, or even the last humans left on Earth.” The screen disappeared.

I didn't know what to say. Everything I had known, everything I had ever known, was gone. Felicia started crying and so did I. We held each other, and cried, and thought about everything we lost. The thing was, you couldn't think about it in terms of “everything is gone.” That didn't make any sense. I had to break it into pieces. Grandpa is gone. My school is gone. All of my friends are gone. My future, my dreams, my hopes, all gone. Everyone else's future and dreams and hopes were even more gone than mine. Me and Felicia cried together for hours.

I gained control of myself first.

“We're going to beat this, Felicia. We're going to beat this.” I wiped my face off. “Listen, go and shower off and put on some different clothes. I'll get supper going.” She nodded silently and rushed off.

I started to prepare a ham and some canned peaches. Fifteen minutes after my sister had gone, she re-entered the room.

The change was stunning. She was wearing one of the housewife dresses and had her hair back in a bun. The haughty, in-charge look had returned to her face. She looked absolutely stunning. I wanted her so badly all of a sudden. She might be the last woman on Earth, so was that wrong? Did the concepts of right and wrong exist anymore? I shook my head. I would have to take this one day at a time.

“Come on, you don't know anything about cooking,” she said, pushing me aside. “You're going to burn this thing. Go fill up this jar with water.”

I gulped, nodding. One day at a time.

Part Three: Adam and Eve

The only things we could do for pleasure in the bomb shelter were read and exercise. We did plenty of both. I spent two hours a day on the exercise bike and an hour on the weights. I had read eight books by the end of the first week. They were mostly old books. The newest one we could find was To Kill A Mockingbird, apparently published in 1960.

We also discovered, based on a journal we found in the laboratory, that the last time anyone had been down here was in October, 1962.

“The Cuban Missile Crisis,” pointed out Felicia.

“Grandma divorced Grandpa right after that,” I remembered. “I wonder if that's why.”

“Well, if someone dragged me into this place for a long time for what ended up being no reason, I'd be pretty mad, too,” she said. She was wearing another of the fifties dresses. I had on a white button-down shirt, plaid pants, and a tie. We had music in the background. Grandpa had dozens of records down here, none more recent than Buddy Holly. I was relaxing in the rocking chair, she was lounging on the couch. I was drinking Jack and Coke. In this living room, we looked like a Norman Rockwell painting gone wrong.

“Just think,” I told Felicia. “If all of this hadn't happened, we'd be graduating right now. We'd be on our way to college.”

“So what?” asked Felicia. “We're not.” She had been saying things like this lately. She seemed to refuse the possibility that we could have ended up anywhere but a hundred feet underground.

“But think about it,” I told her. “I spent all of high school studying and doing every extracurricular I had time for, just to get into a good college. Just to beat you. I tried so hard that I never even had a chance to get a girlfriend, or even make any really close friends. And what was the point? Just so I could end up down here.” I took another sip of my drink. I never drank before I came down here. Then, a couple nights ago, I had been feeling particularly stressed, and decided to open one of the whiskey bottles. It was half gone now.

“I don't know what the point is, but you're sure not making anything better by whining about it. It's past midnight, I'm going to get some sleep. I get the bed tonight.” We had been trading off every other night who got the full-sized bed.

“Fine,” I said. “'Night, Felicia.”

“Goodnight, Emory.” She stood up and went to the bedroom. As soon as she left, I crept into my grandpa's laboratory. There, on one screen, was a screen with six videos on it. Each video was from the point of a camera in a different room in the house. There was the living room, kitchen, bathroom, laboratory, and elevator, but it was the bedroom I was interested. Because in there, my twin sister was undressing.

I knew how sick and wrong it must be, but I couldn't help myself. There was no porn here, the television didn't work. And my sister, well- she really was beautiful. I watched as she unbuttoned her dress from the back and started to pull it down. I grabbed my dick from beneath my plaid pants and began beating off. She stood there in just her underwear, her blue bra and panties showing a stark contrast from her pale body. Her dark mane of hair fell down her back but her bangs obscured her eyes. She removed the bra, and I saw her amazing breasts and dark nipples, firm and erect. She then pulled off her panties, showcasing her incredible butt and shaved pussy. I continued jacking off as she laid down in bed. I used to hate my sister, but in the last few days, I had come to love her. I had learned her toughness was just an act, had seen how human she really was. I wanted to be her lover. We could be like Adam and Eve, start the human race over again, make it better. We were, after all, both intelligent... both physically fit...

But every time I only thought these horrible thoughts while beating off. As I watched her climb naked into bed, I wanted her to be mine, my wife. I would give anything to ram my penis inside her, ejaculate inside her. I wanted my petite little sister. I wanted everything from her beautiful green eyes to her round, tight ass to her long, stunning legs. But as soon as I cummed (which I did now, all over the chair and my plaid pants) I would start thinking how horrible these thoughts were. I could never be in love with her. Even if we were the last two people on Earth, she was my sister. And she would never have me.

I wiped myself off, and using my pocketknife, I marked a tally on the wall of the lab, as I did every day. There were eleven little marks on the wall. How many more would there be? How much longer could I go?

I left then, so I wasn't looking at the screen. But if I had been, Felicia told me later, I would have seen my twin sister crying. Because she knew as well as I did what a waste our lives up until that point had been. She understood, just like me, how dire our situation was. And she knew, as I did, that the future of humanity hinged on what couldn't happen, what we couldn't do but had to.

Part Four: Robinson Crusoe and Mrs. Robinson

I was eating breakfast when Felicia walked into the kitchen, stark naked. I didn't know what to do. So I stared. And stuttered, “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” she said. Her firm breasts were captivating me, and the way her hair swung around them. We had been here for over a month now. She started heating up a package of bacon left over from the previous night.

“I've never known you to be so... comfortable, exposing yourself,” I told her. This was true. Felicia had always been very modest. In high school she never even wore skirts or tank tops. So as her perfect ass, her thin back, her shoulders faced me, I was impressed. I would have been more impressed if I hadn't seen the same thing every night on camera for the last thirty-four nights.

“Well, what's the point of clothes?” she asked. “I'm not trying to impress anyone.”

“Well you're impressing me,” I blurted, then put my hand over my mouth.

She turned around, smiling. “Wow, really, Emory?” She giggled. I had never seen her giggle before. Was she going crazy?

“I'm sorry...” I mumbled.

“Don't worry,” she said, abandoning the bacon on the stove. “I mean, I am a woman. The only woman you've seen in a month. You'd be insane to see me as not an actual girl. Your hormones must be going crazy right now, right?”

“You're my sister...”

“It's a pity, isn't it? We're both going to stay virgins forever, and just because we're the only two people left on Earth. Sad, huh? Oh well. I guess there's nothing we can do about it.” She left the room to go back to her bedroom. I watched her perfect ass move as she went. When she came back, she was wearing her usual clothes.

“You know?” I asked. “I know what it's like up there, but I don't feel so different from Robinson Crusoe here. I mean, for all we know, the world is still going on up there.”

Felicia smiled. “We're more like the Swiss Family Robinson. I mean, there are two of us. And we are sort of related.” Over the past five weeks, we had both become extremely well versed in literature. Grandpa had thousands of books here, and since the television was nonfunctional, reading was our only form of relaxation. That and exercising. I had only put on five pounds of muscle just from working out, and I was as lean as I had ever been. Felicia was looking better than ever, too.

“Some Robinson, anyway,” I agreed with her.

“I wish it could be Mrs. Robinson,” said Felicia. “That would be the most interesting.”

“Most sexy, anyway,” I said. “Well, I'm going to go shower.” By shower, I meant jack off in the bathroom while my sister was busy eating. The sight of her naked had excited me too much.

I entered the bedroom and was about to go into the bathroom when I discovered a notebook on Felicia's bed. I grabbed it, wondering what it was. I opened the last page and saw a journal entry.

Day 35.

Things are worse than ever. No end in sight. Damn it. I'm trapped in this place with the man of my dreams and I can do nothing about it. I'm done flirting with him passively. I'm going to be more obvious than I've ever been before. If he wants to do this, I'm going to make sure he knows he can. He may be my brother, but I'm not going to stay a virgin the rest of my life just because a bunch of dead people would judge me.

God, he's good-looking. Dark hair, green eyes, so tall, well-muscled... I swear, the only thing keeping me going here is him. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I don't know how much longer I want to.

I stood back, my heart throbbing, my hard dick aching. Felicia was in love with me? I felt a mixture of emotions. Fear, and confusion, and love, but at that moment, mostly lust. I turned around and started as I saw Felicia standing there, her hands on her hips.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I kissed her. She was wonderful. We kissed harder, our lips pressing against each other, our tongues moving together. She began moaning. Oh my God, this was incredible. She was incredible. I slid my hand under her dress, feeling her breasts. They felt amazing. They were-

No. What was I doing? This was my sister! The one who had harassed me for our entire childhood. My rival throughout high school. Little Miss Perfect. I pulled away from her, feeling disgusted with myself.

“Felicia, we can't do this,” I said abruptly, leaving the room. I ran into the lab and locked the door. I couldn't let this happen! I couldn't let my twin sister seduce me! Damn it, I was on the brink of insanity as it was. Fucking my sister, the only person left in the world as far as I knew, wasn't going to make anything better.

I heard someone calling out from nearby. I approached the camera screen. Felicia was in the bedroom, fingering herself, calling my name.

Part Five: Right and Wrong

It's tricky avoiding someone who you're forced to share six hundred square feet with. Trust me, I know.

Felicia, knowing that I was her only chance to ever be with a man anywhere in the near future, absolutely refused to give up. She applied the same insanity and confidence which she did to all things to seducing me.

I always slept on the couch now, and she always slept on the bed. One morning I woke up to find my twin sister between my legs. She was completely naked.

“Morning, Emory.”

I tried to move but she blocked me. It took a lot of physical effort to push her off me. She had gotten really strong, we both had.

It was almost impossible for me to shower, too. As soon as I would start, she'd climb right in with me, and I'd have to leave right away.

Also, she seemed to have become the perfect little housewife. Every morning, I woke up to a hot breakfast she had prepared. She kept the bunker spectacularly clean. She spent hours on her appearance each day.

“Felicia, what are you doing?” I asked her one day.

“I'm doing this for you,” she replied. “If I'm not good enough for you yet, I'm going to keep working. I'm going to become the perfect woman for you.”

“It's not that. It's that you're my sister. It's wrong.”

“Emory, we're the only people left. There are no right and wrong anymore. The only right is that we care for each other. Just tell me when you're ready to care for me.”

For my part, I was trying to become close to perfection as well. Not to impress my sister, but simply because I had nothing better to do. In two months, I had gone from a skinny weakling to buff and agile. My bench had increased from 95 to 185. I could run a mile in under five minutes. I had also read almost half of the books in the living room. Felicia had, too. We would stay up late at night discussing Shakespeare or Twain or Tolstoy. Or at least we had, before my sister had started using these occasions to try to have sex with me.

The reason I would not have sex with my sister was simple. It dawned on me after reading Lord of the Flies by William Golding. In that book, a group of boys are stranded on an island. They eventually split into two groups: one group which is sure that they will be rescued, who behave like reasonable humans, and one group who fast loses hope, who begin to behave like savage animals. As time passes the savage group gains numbers and the reasonable group shrinks. The rescuers arrive and see the other group savagely killing and fighting. I didn't want to go down that path. What if human civilization still existed, somewhere above us? What if we emerged to see less destruction than we had been led to believe? How would I feel, having fucked my sister? No. I had to remain true to the rules of society, lest we ever rejoin it.

I explained this to Felicia once. Her response was, “Fuck society. I don't want society. I want you. Let's start our own society.”

“There are only two of us.”

“There could be more. We could have children. Grandpa said, 'Be fruitful and multiply.'”

“I'd feel a lot better about this Adam and Eve thing if we weren't brother and sister.”

“But don't you see?” She sounded exasperated. So, Adam and Eve weren't related. But their kids were! How do you think their kids had kids?”

“Uh...”

“And whenever in anything, movies or books or whatever, two people decide to 'repopulate the human race.' What would their kids do? Their kids would have sex with each other! Ever thought of that?”

I honestly hadn't. But it didn't change my mind.

My thoughts of our recent conversations were interrupted by Felicia entering the room. She was wearing only an apron. Her dark hair was thrown messily back over her shoulders. Just looking at my sister I often remembered how very close to my idea of perfection she was. Beautiful. Fit. Brilliant. Resourceful. I love talking to her. I loved just being around her. At my more desperate times, I imagined that she had been made just for me, like Eve had been just for Adam. That she and I had been placed on Earth just for each other by a God who knew full well that the world would be destroyed, and wanted to start over.

Then I told myself to stop going crazy.

“Do you want some waffles, honey?” she asked me.

“I would love some waffles,” I told her.

Part Six: Buddy Holly and Shakira

“More steak, honey?”

“I would love some.”

Felicia bent in over the steak to cut a chunk off, affording an excellent view of her ass. We were having steak to celebrate. It was our hundredth day here. Apparently our imprisonment was worthy of celebration.

Felicia walked back over, holding the steak. She was a knockout. She was wearing a blue checkered dress with an apron over it. Her breasts were showing off. She was slim, and so were her muscles, but I could see the power hidden under the surface. Her face still maintained that haughty, uncontrollable look it always had. Her dark hair was in a bun.

“Hey, honey, I was wondering,” she said. “I know you're not excited about anything sexual, but I was wondering if maybe... you want to dance after dinner? I mean, just to celebrate.”

I thought for a second. I didn't want to risk anything, but on the other hand, Felicia deserved this. Plus, it wasn't unheard of for brothers and sisters to dance. It was a pretty common thing, if I remembered correctly.

“Sure,” I told her.

We cleaned up the dishes and went over to the living room floor. Felicia threw a Buddy Holly record on. This was 50s rock and roll, the kind you can dance to, the kind they don't make anymore. Felicia flipped the lights off, and we started.

I swung her around, she whooped for joy. I brought her near again and we pressed together. She was moving her hips in a way that was more suited to Shakira than Buddy. I pushed her away and held her at a distance again.

The first song ended, the second began. It was a slow song. She came up to me immediately, pressed her body against me. I stared into her deep blue eyes. She was so beautiful. And at that moment I understood something. I understood that I had no choice. Even if we hadn't had sex yet, she was already my woman. We lived as husband and wife. I just hadn't consumated our relationship. But why wouldn't I?

“Felicia,” I said, having a hard time believing I was saying these words. “I'm ready.”

“What's that?” she asked, apparently lost in the moment.

“I said, I'm ready.”

Part Seven: Be Fruitful and Multiply

It was as if I was being attacked by a monster. One minute she was in front of me, the next she was all over me. Our tongues were together, our hands were all over each other. One of her hands explored my chest and back, while the other entered my pants. I pressed a hand against her head, feeling her smooth, silky black hair, and moved the other one inside her dress. I unsnapped her bra and pulled it down, and then began to feel up her breasts. She was moaning loudly and so was I. My lips caressed her face as she fondled my cock, making it harder than ever. She reached up and unbuttoned my pants, allowing them to fall down. I undid my sister's bun, letting her long and gorgeous hair fall down. I then began the difficult task of unbuttoning her dress one-handed. She released my back to aid me with this. With passion consuming us both, it proved to be a very difficult task indeed. Finally, frustrated, I just gave up and ripped it clean off her. She gave a little yell of passion and charged right at me, only her panties still covering her body.

We thrust our bodies at each other like wild animals, making noises only wild animals make. Maybe we had become wild animals somewhere along the way. But at the moment, both of us were too consumed by lust to consider the philosophical implications of what we were doing. She ripped my shirt off and jumped on top of me, pressing me onto the couch. We were lying there now, her on top of me, her long hair falling in my face. We weren't wasting any more time with foreplay. She pulled her panties down. She was entirely naked and begging to be fucked.

“Let's do it,” she said. “Be fruitful and multiply.”

A hundred times hornier than I had ever been in my life, I shoved my cock into her pussy. I felt her hymen break but she seemed so consumed by lust that she didn't notice. “Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!” she shouted. I thrust into the beautiful girl lying on top of me as she let out shrieks and moans. She moved up and down in perfect tandem with my movements. Were we really made for each other? I wondered as I kept ramming her. Her pussy was tight as a glove, a perfect fit for my cock. And we seemed to act instinctively together. With this level of passion, we weren't going to last very long. With our bodies thrusting together, we released our juices simultaneously. I had no idea I was capable of ejaculating as much as I did, and she was no longer just wet- her cum was flowing out of her body. Our cream spread across the couch and drenched both of us.

We took a second to catch our breaths. Then my twin sister kissed me on the lips and asked me, “You ready for round two?”

I was. All the sexual energy I had been storing for this moment had come alive. Felicia crawled off me and moved into a position on all fours on the floor, her ass raised a little higher than her head. She was presenting for me, like a bitch in heat. Not wasting a second, I jumped off the couch, got on my knees, and thrust into her pussy from behind, fucking my horny sister doggy style. She screamed as I fucked her harder. I had a beautiful view of her rear. I grabbed her body for balance and started smashing my dick into her harder than I ever had before. Within ten seconds, she orgasmed. Trying not to, I closed my eyes and held on. It was like trying to ride a bucking bronco. But within a few seconds, her orgasm was over. I continued pounding her.

“Oh my God, Emory, how are you still going?” she moaned. I didn't respond. All of my concentration, all of my energy, was going into this. She was getting close to another orgasm. Just as she was about to cum, I grabbed her and lifted her into an upright position. I squirted even deeper inside her pussy, releasing another enormous load as she came again.

We fell to the floor, panting again. She got up first. She was drenched in our juices and sweat. “Emory, come sleep with me in the bed tonight,” she told me. She didn't have to tell me twice. I leaped up and settled down in the bed with her. I pressed my front against the back of my new lover, breathing in her scent. She turned around and kissed me passionately.

“Do you think we're going to have a baby now?” I asked her.

“Oh, I hope so,” she said. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I told her. “Even if it did take the end of the world to bring us together.”

She laughed, and her laugh made her body move. Her body's movement against my dick made me get hard again.

“You're still excited,” she said. “What's itTo continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.