Big Tits and Correct Opinions (Kat Dennings)

[HER_ABHORRED_SHEARS]

tags: kat dennings, incest, big breasts, light femdom, teasing, hatefucking, roleplay, oral, anal

Summary: older brother fucks the arrogance out of bratty sister Kat Dennings.

Note: Tireless on your behalf, I watched a whole season of 2 Broke Girls as research. Note that Kat’s family is actually called “Litwack”—to reduce reader confusion I refer to them by her stage name of “Dennings”.

Content warning: do not read this story if you have a delicate stomach: it contains VERY big tits and EXTREMELY correct opinions.

* * *



Big Tits and Correct Opinions

My kid sister Kat Dennings ALWAYS HAS TO BE RIGHT. It sucks.

Eighteen years. That’s how long we’ve lived together. Zero. That’s how many times I’ve heard her admit to being wrong. She provokes pointless arguments about stupid topics (usually taking the most enragingly bad stance about said stupid topic) and then argues until you give up.

Cats were invented in the year 1644.

Die Hard is a Hannukah Movie.

Killing someone in a dream means they died in another timeline and you owe their real-life twin an apology (and also money).

Being blatantly wrong doesn’t stop her. A shovel to the face doesn’t stop her. She is a machine. Trying to out-argue my sister is like trying to out-bark a dog or out-piss the Niagara Falls. I have never seen it done.

She’s so annoying. Even if there are compensations…

* * *

“Women have a higher tolerance for pain than men,” Kat randomly said around the breakfast table one morning.

Mom and dad ignored her. I was half-asleep, and like an idiot, I dived on the bait.

“That makes no sense,” I said. “Men had to fight mammoths and stuff…”

“And women have to give birth and stuff,” Kat retorted. “Babies are more painful than mammoths.”

“No, they’re not.”

“Are too!” Kat’s eyes flashed in delight. Yay! A victim! “Have you seen how big a newborn baby is? Imagine that coming out of your butt. You’d demand a Purple Heart. And that’s Tuesday morning for us women. Face it, Zack. We’re the stronger sex!”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m right!” Kat was just smug as a peach that morning. I wanted to slap that arrogant grin right off her dial.

Her pretty smirk was framed by obsidian-black hair, braided into thick glossy pigtails. They twisted like pythons down the shoulders of a Gudrun & Gudrun cashmere sweater, where the tips rested on the upper slopes of her huge breasts.

If being stacked was a crime, my sister would currently be eating her last meal on death row. She wears a 30JJ. (Yeah, like you wouldn’t check the tags on a big-titted sister’s bra, you goodie two-shoes.) I couldn’t even think of a comeback, I was too distracted by the sheer wobbling enormity of the monster jugs stretching the Gudrun & Gudrun to bursting.

“Got anything to say, big bro?” Kat smirked again, leaning forward. Her vast tits ballooned obscenely against the table, and I got an erection.

How are they so fucking big? I thought, my palms itching with sweat. It’s like she’s got a pair of motorcycle helmets under that sweater.

“Your argument makes no sense.” My boner was chokeslamming out my brain for monopoly over my blood supply. “How do woman giving birth prove they have a higher pain tolerance?”

“According to you, men fighting mammoths proves something, so I was pointing out that women experience worse pain.”

“The mammoths were just an example.”

Her smile became smugger. “The babies were just an example.”

Hit the eject lever, or you’ll be here for ten hours.

“Let’s agree to disagree,” I said, vengefully stabbed a streak of bacon with my fork.

“Ha!” Kat clapped her hands, her tits leaping hugely inside her sweater. “That means you lose!”

I flung the fork down. “NO, IT MEANS I THINK THE ARGUMENT IS DUMB!”

“You didn’t think it was dumb before!” Kat said. “People only ‘agree to disagree’ when they’ve lost.”

“It’s a stupid argument about nothing,” I snarled. “Grow up. There’s nothing to lose. Except your two remaining brain cells by thinking about it.”

“Let’s hear you debunk it, if it’s so stupid.”

Like Michael Corleone, you think you’re out…and then she pulls you back in.

“I can’t, Kat, because there’s nothing to disprove. It’s random nonsense you made up. Like if I said ‘hey, men have more self control than women!’ at the breakfast table and then challenged you to debunk it. See? I can play that game too!”

Kat scoffed, and tried to cross her arms over her chest. This didn’t work, due to insurmountable physical problems, and she awkwardly let them fall to her sides.

“I wouldn’t find that very hard to debunk,” she sniffed. “Everyone knows women have more self control than men.”

“No they don’t.”

“Yes they do.”

“They don’t!”

“They do!”

The sniping became an all-out shooting war. Mom and dad stood up from the table, said “goodbyes” that went completely ignored under the yelling, and left for work.

“THEY DON’T!”

“THEY DO!”

* * *

“Those damn kids fight all the time,” Mr Dennings grumbles, adjusting his yarmulke on the way to his car. The sounds of teenage bickering follows him to the car.

—They don’t!—

—They do!—

“Kat has certainly inherited her Bubbe’s stubborn streak,” Mrs Dennings says.

“Zack’s holding his own, from what I can hear.”

They’re at the end of the driveway, and can still hear the yells from the house.

—They don’t!—

—They do!—

“They’re good kids,” Mrs Dennings says. “Even if they do argue like a married couple sometimes. They have bright futures ahead of them. Kat’s doing so well with her acting. And Zack’s got his…what does he have, honey?”

Mr Dennings sighs heavily. “…His esports career. Aspiring esports career, I should say.”

*“Well, one of them has a bright future,” Mrs Dennings says, rooting around in her purse for car keys. “At least they’re not fooling around with drugs and pre-marital sex and all that other* mishegas. Remember the Finkelsteins?”

He shudders. The Finkelsteins’ daughter was caught kissing a boy at shul. Had his hand understand her sweater, according to gossip. They weren’t even engaged!

“That’s true,” he says. “At least our kids are well-behaved. We can trust what goes on in our home.”

* * *



The stereo was on—“The Black Parade”, storming forward at 194bpm.

I gasped on the couch. Jerked. My spine whiplashed against concussive bursts of pleasure.

My bratty kid sister’s tongue drooled across the head of my prick, fat and heavy. She dragged it wetly over my glans, provoking another toe-curling cascade of sensation. Agony, braided into ecstasy. Agonecstasy.

My piss slit yawned, drooling a glistening river of pre-cum down my shaft. Her clever blade-sharp tongue flashed and curved, slurping it up.

“Are you sure mom and dad are gone?” she said, tonguing my balls.

“Yeah, I heard their cars leave.”

Kneeling between my legs, Kat flipped and tugged my prick back and forth, slapping it around with lashes of a tongue like a fat pink whip. I shuddered, feeling breath wash over my genitals—followed by her whole fucking mouth.

“Your balls feel extra full this morning,” she said, pulling her head out of my crotch. “You’re not gonna win this one, big bro.”

“Try me.”

Kat reached behind her back, and undid the final hook on her 30JJ bra. It exploded from her heavy pendulous tits, the cups springing outward. Gripping my knees, she used them like balance beams to swing her huge-jugged torso forward onto my lower body.

Plop!

She swung herself down into my lap, gallons of white tit meat piling obscenely on both thighs. Using her boobs like pillows to support herself, Kat plunged her head into my crotch and began to feast.

She slurped and sucked on my prick. Her stacked boobs rippled as her head rose and fell; as mouth-noises sprayed out, as red lips pulled and tore and scythed relentlessly at my pulsating shaft.

I locked my jaw. Gritted my teeth. Tried to let the waves of pleasure surge through me and out the other side.

I will not cum. I will not cum. I will not—OOF!

My sister latched on my quivering cock, deep-throating me, grinding sticky lipstick into my itching ballsack. As I twitched at the back of her throat, I felt her hard nipples pebbling against my hairy naked legs. Two rock hard dots. Fuck Me in abstract Braille.

“Stop giving yourself a head start,” I snorted, my ankles sweating. “Let me eat your pussy.”

She backed her head off my saliva-slickened shaft enough to talk. “Can I be on top this time?”

I slid over on the couch, making space for her. “I’ll be the six. You be the nine.”

A hand flicked past me, reaching for the controls on the side of the couch. She pressed RECLINE. The couch’s back plunged back, twisting me horizontal. Eyes to the ceiling. Mind in the clouds. Feeling my sister slink and writhe from the ground up onto the couch, until her body was yin-yang opposed to mine. As her head feasted lewdly on my crotch, her feet playfully kicked me in the face.

“Ow! Stop it, Kat!” A sharp toenail almost tore out my eye.

Still not letting go of my prick with her mouth, Kat swung her body onto mine in graceful stages. Like a mountaineer; like a gymnast. Poetry stanza’d in meters of muscle and gravity. Her thick legs laced around my head, squeezing from the knees. My skull was cradled between them.

Then she rolled her hips back. Her moist cunt’s shadow swung over my face, her gash yawning like a chasm. A rope of viscous pussy juice unspooled, going plap in my eye.

“Take a deep breath,” she said, angling her hips. “Or don’t. Like I care.”

Then she pounded her meaty hips straight down on my face, engulfing me in her chubby pussy and labia.

SMACK!

Apocalypse.

Her cunt and ass and thighs swallowed half my head, burying me in a landslide of my sister’s flesh. It was like drowning in melting white chocolate. Her legs gripped my head, and her overlarge buttocks slid down my skull. I could hardly breathe. Her hot pulsing genitals seemed to flow around my face. Liquid wept from her Skene and Bartholin glands. Somewhere in that gooey mess, I found Kat’s clit, hard and shiny as a pearl, and began tongue-fucking it.

We sixty-nined on the couch, sucking and slurping each others’ genitals, each trying to make the other cum. A rude pit orchestra of moist, slapping sounds descanted from our lips.

Kat sucked and titfucked me. At the other end, she smeared her hot wet pussy over my face. Whenever she lifted up her hips, I gazed through the perspiration-slick chasm our bodies formed. Her boobs were piled in heaps of whipped cream against my lean, muscular pelvis. She scooped up her breasts, and clasped them around my cock, titwanking me while teasing the glans with her tongue—the huge jugs squelched wetly and heavily around my plunging prick.

Fuck! My brat sister’s tits had so much flow and mass and volume. They were like balloons of hot dough. I watched beads of sweat rolling slowly down the immense slopes of her udders.

How am I not cumming already?

Then she thrust her cold index finger into my asshole. A shock. A worm of wriggling ice, plunging deeply and ravenously into me.

I…I wasn’t ready.

A mind-annihilating rush tore across my prostate like a fireball, a white-hot onslaught that obliterated my entire reproductive tract into gelid spasms. Pleasure firestormed through me, wild and hot and unendurable. I would have screamed, if my mouth hadn’t been full of her fat throbbing cunt. Every muscle I possessed suddenly seemed to shorten by half. I contracted, convulsed, folded inward, tore myself apart around the finger inside my ass.

“Guhh!” I bucked my hips against her face.

My surging balls vented forth their pungent load in torrents. Grunting, writhing, squirting, I firehosed disgusting quantities of cum into her mouth.

Kat’s eyes widened as a dozen ribbons of cum sprayed into her throat. She choked and gagged on my thick genetic sludge, and yanked her head back. Mouthfuls of thick gooey sperm were HURRKed back into my crotch, followed my thrashing, ejaculating dick. It jerked around like a fish, flopping back and forth in her hand.

“Ha! You came first!” she sputtered, as white cum sprayed across the couch. “I win the argument! I win the UHHHH-GUHHHHH…AAAAAHHHH!”

My tongue stabbed forward, and punched her twat hard enough to connect the right wires. She squealed, her hips recoiled with the force of a breech-loaded shotgun blasting, and her pussy convulsed against my face.

“CUUUUUHMMMMIIIINNGG!”

Kat orgasmed ferociously, her thighs scissoring around my neck with bone-snapping force.

“OH FUCK! UHH! UHHH! UHHHH!”

Her meaty thighs jerked and jerked, as fierce rhythmic surges twisted her muscles. I was trapped in a pythonlike vortex of thighflesh, strangling me.

“UHHH! UHHH! UHHH!”

Just when I thought I’d pass out, her thighs relaxed, quivered, and unlooped from my neck.

Kat rolled off my body. Fell off the couch. Landed on the floor with a thud. I gasped for air, feeling a star-shaped explosion of of her cum cooling on my face.

For a second, there was quiet…which never lasted long in this house.

“I win again!” Kat jeered, leaping back up like a cheerleader. “I WIN AGAIN!”

She fist-pumped over my sweat and cum covered body, bouncing up and down. Her fat fucking tits went clop-clop as they clubbed against her sternum. Female ejaculate sluiced down her big jiggly thighs in double-rivers.

“Quod Erat Demonstrandum, bitch!” Kat sneered, her face flushed. “Men do have worse self control than women!”

I smiled. “You gave yourself a HUGE head start, and still only outlasted me by eight seconds!”

“I’m eight point zero, you’re late point zero!”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means I WON!” Kat giggled, her climax shunting her thoughts down weird tracks. “This calls for celebration. I’m getting drunk on mom’s cooking wine.”

“Wow, you’re such a rebel.”

“Want anything from the kitchen?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I watched the smokeshow that was my sister’s body bounce and jiggle toward our mom’s stash of Manischewitz.

We were homeschooled. Our folks would be away all day.

The house was ours. Not legally, but in every way that mattered.

With my soft cock fattening on my thigh, I wondered what other arguments I could “lose” to Kat before the day ended…

* * *



This all started when my sister accused me of jacking off into her bra cups. (Which I wasn’t, for the record. I did it in her panties, like a gentleman.)

“Stop whacking your dick to me, you perv!” she yelled. “I’m your sister! Ew!”

“I’m not whacking my dick to you!”

“Yes you are!”

“No I’m not!”

Yadda yadda for ten minutes…

Then, without meaning to, I said the most tactically brilliant thing I have ever said in my life. Some next-level Sun Tzu shit came out of my mouth.

“Kat, I know you’re full of yourself. I know this will be difficult for you to hear. But I’m not sexually attracted to you.”

Kat looked like she’d been slapped. Her mouth fell open in an O of shock.

“You? Not attracted to me? I’m sorry, but…WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”

“I tried masturbating to you once, sis,” I said, palms out guilelessly. “But my dick wouldn’t get hard. I couldn’t fap to you if I wanted to.”

She put her hands on her hips and pouted.

“Oh, that’s so bullshit, Zack! You have a boner every time I’m in the postal district! Remember that time when—when—”

“Who’s this ‘When’? A friend of yours?”

“YOU THINK I’M HOT!” My sister fumed and flounced. This statement—that her brother didn’t find her attractive—had caused a full-blown blood infarcture in her brain. She was broken by it. “YOU WANT TO FUCK ME! DON’T DENY IT!”

“You know,” I began pleasantly, “when reality doesn’t match what we expect, our brain subtly misperceives events so that—HEY!”

She flung a pillow in my face. Followed by an entire sofa cushion. And then the family cat. Smokey miaowed, tried to claw out my eyes, and then shot down the hall like a fluffy torpedo.

I raked cat hair from my eyes to see Kat do an angry double-stomp on the floor, give a gutteral scream, and rage-walk to her room, fists pumping at her side.

“Fuck you, Zack!”

“Hey, sis!” I laughed. “Chill out. What have I done?”

“I HATE YOU SO MUCH! FUCK YOU!”

“First you’re mad that I’m fapping to you, now you’re mad that I’m not fapping to you? Make up your mind! I can’t win, can I?”

She twisted her fists back by her sides, and leaned forward. It looked comically like she was trying to take a shit. Then she spoke softly, with rising force.

“Zachary Dennings, you are a…”

The sentence abruptly became a scream, like Mufasa roaring from Pride rock.

“…LIIIIAAAAAARRRRRRRR!”

She slammed the door so hard that a sheet of dust puffed from the entire wall. I was impressed. Our house hadn’t shaken that bad in Cali’s last category 7 earthquake.

I shrugged, picked up the controller, and kept grinding my k/d.

* * *

Minutes later, Kat’s bedroom door creaked open.

I heard her feet falling behind me. Felt her breath washing across my neck.

I turned around, and saw her…

…and instantly my 2.3 k/d plunged straight to scrubtown.

Oh.

Look.

At that.

I did not know my sister had bought a black slingkini.

But as she stood between me and the TV—letting the lambent fire of Halo 2 wash across her oil-dark flesh, I knew it then. Knew it deeper than I knew the fact of my own existence.

“Hi, Mr Not Attracted To His Sister!” Kat sneered, her body lashed and laced in black, shocking and black and white and contradictory, twisting like an antimatter tornado in latex. “How do you like me now?”

Lust hit me like a hammer; made my eyes water. The Dualshock II slid from my hands.

My perspective twisted inward upon her voluptuous body, as though I was falling into a Kat Dennings-shaped black hole.

Was she wearing a slingkini or was one painted onto her body? It gripped her audacious figure like a Chinese finger trap. She posed and pirouetted, putting a hand behind her head. Mountains of flesh heaved and groaned beneath the black lycra piece.

It was way too small for her. Her tits looked obscenely enormous in the strappy black monokini. They sloshed heavily from from side to side, like balloons filled with water, tightly pinned to her chest by scandalously tiny ties which formed a V across her thick body, causing vast tidal swells of her flesh to gush out on each side. Her nipples were barely covered. Her areolas were clearly visible.

Beneath her chest, Kat’s heavy, massive PAWG ass was escaping all over the place from the tiny brief-bottom. Even from the front, you could see the way her asscheeks were getting forced out past her hips.

My dick swelled in my pants.

This does not strike me as a Shyamalan-esque plot twist, best kept from the reader until the last page.

Saliva dried up in my mouth, and I lusted with the fires of hell for my sister.

I imagined her naked. Stripped and tied up upon my bed. Bent over on the couch while I drilled her, pounding her face into a pillow. I replayed all of the hundreds of sexual fantasies I’d had about my sister in seconds, like a dying man’s life flashing on fast-forward.

I imagined shredding the slingkini with my grasping hands—easily done, there was barely any fabric to tear—and filling my hands with her enormous jiggling tits. I wanted many things, so many things, that the wants were drops of water in a boiling dark sea of need.

Kat slid onto my lap, smirking and impudent and juvenile. The morals of a forty-year-old bawd and the attitude of a bratty toddler. My cock bulged and swelled, throbbing against her thigh.

“Ha!” she said smugly, wrapping a commanding arm around my sweaty neck. “Looks like you were full of shit, big bro! You can’t get enough of me! Of this!”

I could have backed down. Probably should have backed down. But in that moment, I saw the world through her eyes.

I was inside The Katrix.

My sister was psychologically shattered. A broken piece of human wreckage whose ego and sense of worth was tied to being right.

Winning arguments was the only thing she valued or cared about. If she couldn’t win, she was nothing. She’d just stripped down to an outfit that was somehow more naked than nakedness itself—in front of her biological brother, who she’d just accused of masturbating to her—to win an irrelevant side-dispute. This was what mattered. This was all that mattered. Winning.

Only an evil brother would exploit this knowledge.

Unluckily for her, I am an evil brother. Or at least an angry one. One desperate to repay years of old hurts.

“Hmm…” I said, letting a supercilious smile cross my face. “Well, I am definitely hard…but there’s a catch.”

Scowling brattily, she leaned forward. Her ballast-balloon tits made the slingkini straps sag and strain. “…what?”

“I think it’s because of the slingkini. Not your body, so much. Danny DeVito could wear that shit and give me a boner.”

Her face tensed. “You have fucking problems, big bro.”

A smile curved out, cracking the ice of my face.

“My dick wouldn’t be hard if you were naked, Kat.”

And that set her off again.

She yelled. Screamed the roof down. Fought tooth and nail. YES IT WOULD YES IT WOULD YES IT WOULD! Marshalled facts and evidence and corroborations like a heavyweight corporate lawyer who bills by the picosecond.

But in the end, there was only one way she could prove she was right.

Are you figuring out the rest? Because Katherine Dennings still hasn’t.

Sure, Kat. You’re naked, and my dick’s a tiny bit hard. But I wouldn’t be able to cum if you gave me a handjob.

…Or if you gave me a blowjob.

…Or if I fucked your pussy..

…Or if you let me put it in your asshole.

Go ahead, sis.

Prove me wrong.

Inside her is an unstoppable force that leaves only fire and ashes in its wake. A force that doesn’t care where it pointed. The force could be aimed right at her dignity, her chastity, her soul, and she wouldn’t care.

She loves winning arguments.

And I, by the grace of God, have learned to love losing them.

* * *



Her hand was folded in mine, a hot little leaf.

We adjourned upstairs, to the master bedroom. The whole time, I felt her pulse spike inside her wrist. Kathump kathump.

We left our clothes behind on the floor. I guess we forgot.

Naked, we shut the bedroom door and faced each other before the doublewide bed.

My throbbing boner wobbled from my hips, a massively thick hose of dense, rubbery flesh and muscle, nine point five inches long. It pointed straight at her naked slit, like a rod divining water.

She gripped my penis with her hand, and stroked it until rivers of slippery precum gleamed down her wrist.

We were about to fuck on our parents’ bed. This was something we did more than frequently. It was probably the exact same bed they’d conceived us on—kind of gross, but they had a doublewide, and Kat and I just had singles.

There was a blanket laid out the bed, to absorb the messes Kat tended to make when we screwed. I hadn’t put it there. She must have, early in the morning.

That made me smile. I had my turbobitch of a sister well-trained. Even before the breakfast argument, she knew how the day was going to go for her. Legs spread wide.

“You aren’t gonna win this time, sis,” I sneered, relishing the ripple of uncertainty that passed through her abundant flesh as she felt my cock throb with kegels contractions. “I’ve got you dead to rights.”

What was the argument again? I wondered. I forget.

She locked her eyes against mine, and squared her shoulders.

“Put your dick where your mouth is, big bro.”

I gripped her shoulders, and pushed her back onto the bed.

As she fell backward into space, I lunged forward on top of her, driving my cock into her pussy as we landed in a tangle on the bed.

She gasped. Her bubble-butt crashed and wobbled as I slammed my shaft into her with a disgusting, meaty sound.

SLLUUUURRRKKK!

I got three inches inside before she clenched, holding me out.

Our eyes flashed. Clashed. She started squeezing her pelvic floor muscles, pulsing her pubococcygeus and iliococcygeus, trying to force me out of her cunt. A game she liked to play. Not one I found hard to win, though.

Slowly, methodically, I sheared through her her resisting pussy muscles. My hips punched and jerked their way through her snaking vice of flesh, burrowing a slippery tunnel through her twat. We giggled as our bodies shared heat. As we felt heartbeats exploding double-time through our blood-engorged genitals. As my prick slid deeper, deeper, inexorably deeper.

Her hips rolled and thrashed. Her walls squirmed, defied, and ultimately broke.

My twisting, writhing organ fought and fucked a long, slippery path all the way to the bottom. Her bottom. I just clenched my ass and my teeth and my hand around her neck, and brutally tore her open.

SHPLAT! SHLUCKK!

“UGHH!”

My cock truncheoned home, my balls smacking against her quivering flesh. Kat’s eyes became massive and fearful as my fat shaft lay throbbing inside her, balls-deep.

I had broken her.

Kat lay wide-eyed, impaled on her brother’s huge obscene prick…and giggled.

She was drunk. She had absolutely assraped that bottle of Manischewitz our mom kept in the pantry. I probably should have cut her off after the third tumbler—mom would notice if we stole too much of it.

But now, I had more pressing concerns. As did my sister.

Like a rutting bull, I sunk my cock into the warm slippery hole between her twitching thighs, hungrily fucking my sister. I took balls-deep strokes through Kat Denning’s seething, roiling twat. In. Out. In. Out. She shuddered and swore, wrapping arms around my shoulders, as though I could protect her from my own storm.

Her huge throwpillow-sized breasts jiggled in her armpits with each meaty impact.

SQUELCH! SPLORCH!

When I stabbed into her, her pussy released my prick with a wicked suctioning pull. Harder to get out than to get in. It was as if she…didn’t want me to leave.

With each thrust, pleasure detonated through my body. My vision streaked. My skin gleamed, as though my fast-running sweat was liquid moonlight. The room seemed to vibrate, to swell and bleed like a wild and cosmic heart.

My surging, foaming penis was plugged into גיהנום, into Gehenom, into Yiddish hell. I was fucking my own damnation, raping the afterworld. My eyes rolled back with an overwhelming blast of pleasure, as though they didn’t want to witness what was coming.

SHUNT! SPLIRT! SCHLORP!

Fluid gushed out. My pummeling rutting thrusts sprayed between her legs and onto the towel. A wet stain was spreading like the bloom of a vile, sinful flower. One we were fertiziling, watering, admiring.

Huge tits catapulting, Kat bellowed like a beast under my slamming prick. My moist shaft filled her like a hand filling a glove. Snakelike, she twisted her hips around my prick, churning and chewing at it with contractions of her pelvic floor muscles. She matched my stare, gripped my shoulders, and fucked straight back at me. She gave what she got.

Which sex has greater self-control? Men or women?

Yes. My balls swung and smacked meatily against the brown ring of her convulsing asshole. That’s what the argument was about.

I had convinced my stubborn—but rather gullible—sister that our previous experiment 69’ing on the couch didn’t count to settle our dispute.

I mean, she had given herself a hellaciously big head start. Literally.

We’d fuck the debate out.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

“Don’t cum in me,” Kat gasped in panic.

“Relax,” I tapped a box of condoms. “I have these.”

My sister gritted her teeth, and locked her ankles behind my plunging ass.

“Good for you. Are you gonna use them?”

“Probably,” I gritted out.

“Probably?” Her anxious squawk was swallowed by the wet rasps of my shaft defiling her cunt. “What does that mean?”

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

“Don’t sweat the small stuff,” I said, pinning one of her thighs to the bed for support.

“But if I do get you pregnant, what do you think about ‘Avi’ for a boy’s name? Your choice if it’s a girl.”

“Zack, NOOOOOOOO!!!”

For long minutes, I pummeled the shit out of her bitch cunt. The world sped away on wings of fire. Her legs thrashed beside my hips, feet waving dizzily in the air beside my body like butterfly wings, boobs jolting with each musky squelch of my cock sinking through her engorged labial lips.

SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!

I gazed down at the seesawing girlish figure cock-pinned beneath me.

Huge tits—as massive and as bulbous as pumpkins—volleyballed up and down her chest as I stroked my dick into her. They spun around unpredictably, clubbing and rebounding in complex figure-of-eight patterns as kinetic energy flowed out to her extremities. Her erect nipples sped in blurs of light, seeming to write letters in some ancient language.

I clenched my teeth and picked up the pace. The wobbling of her tits accelerated. Her nipples became incoherent streaks of motion as my hips feasted lewdly at her sluthole, and then even this halting attempt at language vanished.

This was a dark realm where writing and speech ceased to matter.

Screams? They was still an option.

SPLATSPLATSPLAT!

I bottomed out in her twat. She roared and howled like a demon, arching her back as my sweaty chest thundered onto her.

She glanced down. A cock considerably thicker than our wrists was stretching her out. Her petals swelled like a sleeve before me.

My big teenaged erection flexed massively, just the root visible inside her. She gasped as I wriggled around a little.

Then she orgasmed.

Her face seemed to break like glass. Raptures of pleasure flashed and surged under her flesh, muscles going taut and then relaxing. A lightning storm was fulgurating beneath her skin.

“OHH! OOOOHHHHH!!! FUUUUUCKK YEAHHHH!” she whined out brazenly, squeezing her eyes shut.

For over forty seconds, her pussy sleeve spasmed around my fuck-prong like a sock made of knotted living eels.

“You’re cumming,” I grinned, delighted to have held onto my sperm.

“No!” she squealed, with her her pelvic floor muscles chugging frantically, going jerk-jerk-jerk in that tell-tale way. “I’m not! I’M NOT! I’M…UGH…I’M NOT!”

I grasped her heavy asscheeks, which even from the front were splayed on each side of her body, and began giving her the business.

“Good. Then I’m not done.”

CLAP, SCHLAP, SCHLAP, SCHLAP, CLOP!

My balls slapped and exploded, while I hammered her squirt-drooling slot. Fucking with sledgehammer speed, I made her scream and scream. Flesh trembled everywhere it could tremble.

I slid straight to the bottom of my sister, feeling her clitoris throb against my cock as she climaxed again.

“UHHHHHHH!” she wriggled so hard she almost tore my dick off my body. More pulses of squirt washed out.

“Let’s see if we can make it three!” I slammed her to the bed. Her eyes opened—mute, meek, submissive—as her brutal sex-obsessed brother resumed defiling her precious rose.

FIve minutes later, she orgasmed once again. She screamed her throat hoarse, with her pussy blasting like a cannonade. I grabbed her hips and stabbed my prick in as deeply as I could, stoking the fires swallowing her mind.

My own sanity had fled some minutes ago.

Like a beast, like a brutish ape, I thrust and stabbed and fucked my engorged cock through her drooling cunt. I didn’t know how close I was to cumming. But I did not think it was far.

Kat’s face had enervated to a glassy corpselike sheen. Her perpetually-amused card-sharp’s eyes were crossed-eyed and punched-out blank. Drool pulsed in ropes from her gaping mouth, which gasped like a landed trout’s. The end was close.

“Uh! Uh! Uh!”

I rutted and fucked until my balls started to rise between her foaming hips.

“Uh! Uh! Uh!”

I ran the minutes down into seconds.

“Kat, I’m gonna cum!”

Her nostrils flared with a surge of panic. “Uh! Uh! Uh! THE CONDOM, ZACK! UGHH!”

Oh, shit.

Cock throbbing, cum preparing to surge up from my testes, I pulled my spasming prick out of her sucking pussy, and strapped on a condom. The vile rubber scent hit me like a slap. I prayed I hadn’t broken it as it slid over my dick, but didn’t quite care enough to check.

Then I fucked and fucked and fucked, grasping her fat tits, clapping together in obscene rhythm. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

I bottomed out, my cock powering into her inner sanctum. Rivers of hot vaginal muscle seemed to snake over my penis, searing it, trying to wrench it apart. My orgasm snuck up on me, and then lunged out of the shadows with a pipe wrench. My prostate contracted and then blew up like a bomb.

Grinding and lurching and thrusting, I relaxed my PC muscles, and released my load.

Fat cum bursts hosed through my dick, spewing into the Trojan. I felt resistance as it swelled with my load, and the next half-dozen squirts had nowhere to go. My jizz was firing into a tight blob of goopy genetic sludge, swirling in a circle. I hoped it wouldn’t burst. My cumshots had broken condoms inside my sister before. I didn’t pray. Didn’t seem like the prayer would find a receptive audience right now.

Balls drained, I relaxed. Slackening against her curving, shuddering flesh.

Then I pulled out.

Kat’s cunt released its prey with a lewd slurp. There was an obscene belch as my head popped free of her slit, dragging the bloated condom with it.

My half-flaccid cock slung low and heavy, the lime-green Trojan glistening in the light. A sperm-wad the size of a golfball dangled from the drooling tip. Not bad for my second cumshot in the past hour.

“Did I win?” I asked her. “You came first that time.”

“No!” She panted, overwhelmed and dick-drunk. “That wasn’t an orgasm! I was faking, you dumbass!”

“What about the next two? Were they also fake?”

“Well, okay, maybe I kind of had an orgasm or two!” she admitted. “But I allowed myself to cum! Because I have enough self-control to fuck after I have an orgasm. Unlike every man on Earth.”

“Men have a refractory period,” I told her, flicking a nipple on her big breast. It wobbled like jelly on a plate. “We can’t go another round, straight after cumming. That’s a girl thing.”

It was strange, what provoked her brain to enter argument mode. You couldn’t really call it.

Deeply wounding insults? Shrugged off. Stupid Reddit-tier bullshit about whether hotdogs count as sandwiches? Game on.

And strangely, the dual-word refractory period was like dumping a bull into a red flag factory.

“I read in Cosmo that those are a myth…” she snapped, eyebrows furrowed. “They don’t actually exist. Please don’t insult my intelligence by presuming they do.”

I lifted a huge heavy tit and pressed it into her face. She writhed as voluminous titflesh spilled over her mouth.

“I say they do exist,” I said, playfully suffocating my sister with her oversized left boob. “Do not argue this with me. I have a penis, and you don’t. So how would you know?”

“Mmmff! MMMFFFF!” Fists balled up in fury.

I grinned. “Compelling counterargument, sis, but I am unpersuaded. You cannot possibly get me hard again, Kat. Don’t even try.”

* * *

At work, Mr Dennings grows distracted. His subordinates see it on his face; ask him if something’s wrong. He says no; wonders if it’s true.

Something’s going on with his children.

The fights. The arguments. The slammed doors. The sulks and rages. There’s a dynamic there that he doesn’t understand and doesn’t much trust. Strange rivers run fast and deep inside his home.

Perhaps he’s imagining it all. Perhaps he’s taking a small thing and making it into a big thing.

Or perhaps he’s not.

The morning rolls across to the afternoon. The sense of wrongness is like a piece of food stuck in his teeth. He can’t get it out and can’t leave it alone. Suspicion gains form and shape in his mind…their bickering…it has an element of…

What had his wife said…?

Zack and Kat fight like an old married couple.

Yes.

Except no. Not quite.

They argue like a couple about to be married.

Kat and Zack’s rage-filled, venom-flecked spats remind him of young lovers, burning in the hottest ardency of courtship. Not arguing. Flirting. Sparring. Sizing each other up as potential mates. Are you the one? Prove it. Win my heart. Put me through hell. Make me hate you, if you can. See if love survives or dies against the worst storm you can conjure. Prepare me for marriage with you—show me the worst it will ever be.

His children act like they’re in love! Maybe in lust!

He feels sick. This explanation fits their behavior like a key in a lock. You only care so much about a person you want to fuck.

Oy vey. God puts us on a question mark the size of the planet, doesn’t he?

Eventually, it’s time to go home. If only he knew what home he’s going back to.

Maybe he’s just being stupid. He hopes so. Because he’s imagining his children doing something too awful to even contemplate.

* * *

Brat sister.

Brat sister trapped beneath my thumping hips.

Brat sister held in a mating press, her feet on my shoulders, her big hot tits flooding my palms, my cock pounding a thrice-a-second drumbeat through her obscenely slurping pussy, rolling through forthy squelchy girl-cum like a butter churner, her mouth scream-scream-screaming like the bells of hell.

I lost track of time.

The air stank of sex. The room seemed to spin in dizzying circles around my pumping hips. Stars and black edges corroded vision’s edges as I fucked my sister’s gaping sluthole faster and faster, smashing her to pieces with my lunging hips.

“UGH! Fuck me!” Kat goaded me between strokes, legs buckling like springs as I tore through her. Her moist pussy took my cock to the root again and again, her labial petals erupting outward, as though I was making her bloom with my rutting.

“Fuck me harder, big bro! Harder! That’s pussy shit! Dick me like you MEEAAAANNN IIIIITTT!”

Her fingernails curled and gripped my clawed-to-shreds back as it swung up and down on top of her.

Breathing in crotch-musk and sweat, ears blown out with her orgasmic screams—what was she up to by now? Thirteen? Fourteen?—every muscle from my iliac belt down blazing with fire, I pummeled her into the mattress.

The windows around us were fogging up. Everything was dripping wet. I sledgehammered my cock into her relentlessly, my hips blurring forward, driving apart her labia minora. Swinging a nine inch length of cockmeat into devouring depths.

“UHHH! UHHH! UHHHHH! HARRRRDER!”

She snatched the back of my head and yanked my face down into her dark, suffocating oubliette that was her chest.

Hot, sweaty, balloon-sized tits exploded over my face, obscuring me in a blob of sweat-dripping tit-meat. Her skin sang saltily on my slurping tongue. Her nipples pebbled against my twitching eyeballs.

“FUCK ME!” Kat wailed, as I motorboated her massive saggy tits. “COME ON, ZACK! PROVE YOU’RE A REAL MAN! FUCK ME!”

Sloppy, wet fuck-noises drummed out. Making the walls bleed and echo with rampant, stupid incestuous teenage sex.

I ploughed a trench through her bubblegum-pink pussy. Her meaty body shuddered and rocked beneath the raw kinetic energy I was dumping into her. I glanced at her and laughed: she was a mess! Fucked up as well as fucked!

Her slack pigtails were beginning to unweave from their braids, from the tips on up, Her makeup had poured away in rivers onto the bed, leaving her face beet-red and haggard. My sister was being pounded to pieces by my dick. She was coming apart. Exploding like an overloaded transformer.

She orgasmed again. Then again, seemingly just seconds later. Her climaxes were rolling into each other like cars in a motorway pileup. We rutted frantically, obsessively. Kat’s ginormous tits wobbled wildly, cannonballing across her chest like massive watermelons. Amazing that she wasn’t knocking herself unconscious with those things as we fucked. Or knocking me unconscious. Sweat flew from them in a wild spray.

“ZACK YOU’RE MAKING ME CUUUHHHH—” She howled blindly, a mad thing, her body arcing forward into mine.

Our hips crashed. Circuits connecteted. And I hit my limit.

Grunting, I gripped her colossal tits, and squeezed them hard enough to make her bellow in agony.

Twisting them like handles, I slugged my ass into her, and shot my load.

My balls collapsed, blasting and vomiting and spewing out a river of disgusting thick cum. I gave short, sharp gasps as I jerked out my load inside the condom. Inside my sister.

I bucked and rocked and finally lay still. Exhaustion smashed down on me like an anvil. I lay on her, using her jugs as pillows, unable to imagine ever moving from this place and person again.

But as the blood-tinged thunder of orgasm fizzed away in my ears, she smiled and looped her arm around my shoulder…it seemed romantic…

…until the arm shoved me off.

“Fuck you, Zack.” Smiling.

“Double fuck you with a side of fries, Kat.” Smiling wider.

“Limp-cocked sisterfucking videogame-playing argument-losing nerd.” Grinning with some of her teeth.

“Cocksucking streetcorner-walking sperm-hoovering whorenado.” Grinning with all of mine.

(Feminists low-key have a point. Female-centered insults are way more brutal than male-centered insults. Still, that’s kind of a skill issue, ladies. It’s not as though we men don’t have flaws.)

We lay tangled in bed together for some minutes, marking time, happily bantering back and forth.

I became soft inside her oozing cunt. My cock itched as it slid back, the circumcized glans catching maddeningly against the folds and ridges of her vaginal rugae.

With a gasp, I pulled out of her. My cock tugged free with the disgusting SCHLUUUUUCKKKKK of a boot yanked out of ankle-deep mud. Her pussy stayed open for a couple of seconds, then closed like the shutting of a cyclopian eye.

I ripped the condom away, tied a knot in it one-handed, and laid it beside four others on the windowsill. They looked like a parade of murdered slugs.

I panted.

She panted.

I saw stars.

She saw victory.

“See?” she said, gulping down air. “Men don’t have a refractory period. You can orgasm just as many times as I can. Guys are just too lazy to satisfy women, so they make up a bullshit story. It’s Blue Balls 2.0.”

“Yeah,” I said, dazed and happy. “I guess you were right.”

“Of course!” Kat preened, transported with delight. “I’m always right! About everything!”

“Even when you claimed the moon was made of powdered toast?”

“I was four years old when I said that!” Kat punched me in the shoulder. “And also I was sort of right when you consider that one of the main ingredients in bread these days is—oh, never mind! What do you want to do now? Fuck some more?” Her eyes were hopeful. She sat up, cupping her huge bra-busters. They were so big they made her hands invisible beneath their heavy twin bulks.

I considered it. But then a car door slammed in the driveway.

Our driveway.

Oh, fuck. That’s not good.

I glanced, and saw dad’s Kia Picanto sitting there like a dog ready to attack. Dad had gotten out, casting a long shadow toward the house.

We made eye contact, color draining from our faces.

“I didn’t hear him park!” Kat squeaked, face imploding with horror.

We freaked.

The room exploded into chaos. Our clothes were still downstairs. No time to get them. I yanked the towel off the bed that we’d used to soak up Kat’s ejaculate. It had completely soaked through, leaving a wet spot on the bed. Fuck my life. If I blame the cat on that, will they believe it?

“This is your fault!” Kat yelled, spraying Febreze in wild arcs. “If he catches us, I’m telling him you started it!”

“Shut up!” I hissed, throwing open windows. “This isn’t the time!”

I pressed my ear to the floor, and heard the downstairs door swing open. Footsteps echoed through the house.

Dad called our names, then continued walking toward us.

Come on, dad. Don’t come upstairs. Do something in the living room. Or the garden. Or the kitchen. THERE’S NO CHANCE YOU COME UPSTAIRS.

The footsteps tracked from the hall to the stairs….

…and began to climb.

We shared a mortified glance as the treads creaked.

With nowhere else to go, we pulled open the walk-in closet, bundled ourselves inside, and pulled the door shut.

It was cramped. Hot. My sister’s naked body pressed flush against mine, boobs pillowing hotly on my chest. Despite the circumstances, I began to get another erection. Come on, stupid penis. Now is not the time.

Thud. Thud.

Or maybe it was.

If dad discovered us, it would be the last boner of my life.

Thud. Thud.

We waited and waited. The closet was stifling. Our sweaty, sex-stinking bodies turned it into a sauna. A fur coat was pressed into my eye, itching. I felt a spider race down my leg in a flurry of legs. My sister wouldn’t stop squirming—she was antsy and excited.

Outside, we heard the door swing open. Dad entered the room.

I began to wonder what, precisely, would happen if he pulled open the door and discovered us. A lot of dominos would go crash for me at once.

My bar mitzvah allowance: gone. My college fund: converted into ETFs. My balls: removed with a blunt and rusty spoon (if I was lucky).

Depending on how disgusted my parents were with me, I might end up in prison. It was far too late to have this realization, but I don’t think you’re legally allowed to fuck your sister in the State of California. Probably should have Googled that before sticking my dick in her.

Teflon Kat would be able to wriggle her way out of punishment. She always did. She’d invent some bullshit lie about how her acting instructor was telling her to get spontaneously naked around those she loved to push her out of her comfort zone, or some Lee Strasbergian horseshit, and while they wouldn’t believe her, she’d argue for six hours until they dropped the subject.

I lacked my sister’s mix of elocution and stubbornness. I’d be punished with the fires of hell. They wouldn’t believe me. Not that I deserved to be believed, in any case.

I’d instigated our incestuous relationship. It takes two to tango, but only one to lead.

This was my fault. And only my fault.

Oh God, what have I done…

I squeezed my eyes shut, sick with fear and shame and horror and lust, hearing my dad walk circles around the room. Looking. Searching. Hunting.

On the verge of yanking open the door and finding.

Then his phone rang. He answered it.

Breath gathering with the heaviness of cement in our lungs, we listened to one half of a conversation.

Hello?…Bubeleh, what’s wrong?…Your car won’t start?…You need a jump? Where are you…okay, I’ll be there in twenty minutes with jumper leads…Love you too. Bye.

He hung up, muttered something, and strode from the room. Twenty seconds later, the roar of his car starting thrummed through the closet. He was driving away.

We opened the wardrobe, and stepped back out, gasping for air as we watched the car speed from view.

“We got away with it,” Kat whispered, feeling my boner throb against her leg. “He doesn’t know.”

“I guess.” Adrenaline was fucking killing me.

Then I looked into my sister’s eyes.

Her smirking lips formed an incongruous red arch on her pale complexion, like a red diamond on a white playing card. A surprise, whenever I saw it. Often it meant she thought she’d won.

Now, it meant we’d both won.

She dropped to her knees with a practiced dip, and that red smile began performing fellatio.

She began to feed on my exhausted, slurping and gulping hungrily. Rivulets of thick mucus-flecked saliva dribbled down the hardening base of my penis as she devoured it.

I wondered if forty minutes was enough for one more pummel-session on dad’s bed.

My cock swelled. As blood rushed into it, guilt flooded out of me. Introspection? Remorse? Nah.

SQUELCH PLAP SCHLORP SKLCH

I ran fingers through my sister’s thick lustrous braids while she swallowed my cock, and smirked in victory. I got away with it, dad.

Where there is no arrest, there is no crime.

* * *

Mr Dennings opens the door, and walks through the house.

In the living room, the couch is reclined back. He sighs, and presses the button. It straightens with a snap.

As the backrest surges upward, he notices white splatters plastered over it. They catch the light. He doesn’t know what they are.

“ZACHARY! KATHERINE!”

He wants to talk to his children. Wants to hear their voices, their descriptions of what they do all day—this day, in particular. He will question them alone, and see if their stories match. If they don’t, he will worry. If they do, he will worry, but less.

He can’t find his kids anywhere. That makes him worry most of all.

But he finds their clothes, lying on the floor. He clucks his tongue. Messy kids. Eighteen years old and still not putting away after themselves. Imagine!

Jeans and a man’s t-shirt. Zack’s.

A woman’s shirt, full-figured high-waisted jeans, panties, and a bra. Kat’s.

He stops.

Picks up the bra.

He considers it, his stomach flip-flopping quasily. Kat is such a zaftig girl. Not tall, but thick. Massive across the chest. He’s still stunned by how much and how quickly she’s grown. Breasts like waterbarrels wobble under her shirts and jackets of everything she wears.

He lifts up the 30JJ bra, and ponders the secrets of its hemispheres. Each cup is bigger than his head. He sniffs, smells, fills his nostrils with the pungent body-stink of his daughter’s boob sweat. He’s shocked when he starts getting aroused.

Excited by his own child…

Shame and disgust at what he just did floods him. He throws the bra away, sickened at himself. Why do that? Why?

She’s his daughter…

He wonders if this is the psychological root of his suspicion. Does he suspect incest because he wants to perform incest? It’s a shame that the things you most need to discuss on a therapist’s couch are also the things you are societally gated away from ever mentioning to anyone except a criminal judge.

Mr Dennings climbs the stairs, concern eating at him.

He opens the bedroom, and steps inside.

The odd smell is stronger. He wonders if an animal has crawled into the walls and died. His lips curl in disbelief. Things are not messy, but different. Not as he left it.

What is going on here? What is he missing?

Then he gets a call from his wife. Her car battery is flat. She needs a jump-start.

Very well. He goes to leave the room, but, something catches his eye.

A box, resting on the windowsill. A beam of light frames it perfectly, as if God is drawing his eye onto it.

He approaches the box. Lifts and turns it. His eyes narrow. Suspicion lithifies to stone.

TROJAN MAGNUM LARGE-SIZE CONDOMS - LUBRICATED

He has not had sex with his wife for thirteen years, and has never practiced contraception.

He goes to pick up Mrs Dennings. But along the way, he stops off at a Best Buy. There, he makes a purchase.

A small, easily-disguised security camera.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Money]

Thankfully my sister was nothing like Kat still this was a fantastic story the sex was plenty hot and the tension leading into the sex scenes was totally worth the read can't wait to see where it goes from here

[HER_ABHORRED_SHEARS]

Thankfully my sister was nothing like Kat still this was a fantastic story the sex was plenty hot and the tension leading into the sex scenes was totally worth the read can't wait to see where it goes from here

Thanks Money—you're a mensch.

I have rewritten large parts of this story to fix spelling/grammar mistakes and various smoothbrained moments (like mistaking Don Vito for Michael Corleone)