Kelly's Adventures

I want to pretend that I didn't want it. That I was naïve. That he took advantage of my naivete and used me. Alas, I've never been very good at fooling myself. I know the moment my lips wrapped around the head of his cock...that was as good as I had ever felt.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? Let me lay down some foundation first, shall I?

XXXXXXXXX

I'm my mom's youngest daughter, my dad's only. My older sister, older by 10 years, is my half-sister actually, my mom's daughter from a previous marriage. Mom divorced that other guy around the time my sister Gretchen turned 7.

Two years later, she met the man who would be my dad in the elevator at work. He was 12 years her junior (go mom!), the newest employee for the business that was a floor above where my mom did customer service work for an insurance company. They went out for a drink, made some bad choices, and got married while my mom was seven months pregnant with a baby. That baby was me, born Kelly Clara Taylor.

Now I'm 18 and staring down my high school graduation with the usual excitement and fear. Prom is passed, exams are a few weeks away, my choice of college is all squared away. I've got nothing but time and a mind that won't stop wandering to sinful topics. So, you know, pretty standard teen girl stuff. At least, for now.

Like any 18 year old girl, I pretend like I don't know how I'm a fantasy object for 90% of the people in any given room I walk in, but, I know. I am very aware. Creamy skin just kissed by the sun enough this time of year to develop some tantalizing tan lines that might peek out now and again when I "accidentally" bend over in a too loose shirt. Tallish at 5' 8" with long slimly athletic legs. Cute feet with impeccably painted nails. Blonde hair long enough to do almost anything with including braids and pigtails. A cute face that I almost never use makeup on. Perky tits that are just a little too big for my frame and still defy gravity. Tight stomach that my collection of outfits work hard to expose as often as possible. Of course the boys in my class stroke it to my Instagram page. Of course the dads think of me as they fuck their disappointing wives.

Speaking of dads, my dad turned 40 a few months ago and despite the jokes about him being old, it seems to agree with him. He went back to school two years after I was born, polished after a Masters and PhD in short order, and has been working as a professor at the local college ever since. It isn't Ivy League, but it pays pretty well and gives him a flexible enough schedule to write the occasional book. Dry, intellectual stuff to be sure, but when colleges order them by the palate, it's a nice bit of extra spending money.

Mom is 52 and, well, miserable. Some people age with grace. Some don't. Mom is the latter. She hates the way she looks, hates how she feels, and takes that out on us when she's not using it as an excuse to hide in her room. I miss her sometimes but sometimes she makes me so mad, I think it is a blessing when she stays away all day.

Gretchen is 28, engaged, and excited for her wedding in a scant 6 months. Her fiancée, Frank, seems like a decent enough guy. Kind of dumb, which is weird because my sister is super smart, but he's big and strong and judging by what I've overheard when they've visited, he's not afraid to remind a woman what her purpose is.

To be fucked, to be clear. And least that's what I heard sis proclaim late one night last Christmas. "Yes, fuck me. Use me! I only exist to be fucked for your pleasure! That's what you told me. Prove it! Break your mouthy slut."

I'm not sure I agree, per se, but god if I didn't get wet at the sound of it.

That's probably to blame for what happened today.

XXXXXXXXX

Gretchen and Frank dropped by unannounced, in town to surprise Mom and Dad and to visit their wedding venue, choose the food, all that stuff. Finding Dad still at work—no surprise—and Mom out—a rare blue moon-esque event, I was the only one around.

"We should bring Kelly," Frank suggested, his voice dropping down ever so slightly in a way that made me feel oddly like prey.

Gretchen thought about it a moment, biting her lip before nodding.

"We could use the extra set of tastebuds," she agreed before growing excited and whispering conspiratorially, "We'll even give you some of the champagne if you promise not to let your Dad know."

I mimed "cross my heart" and away we went.

XXXXXXXXX

The food was delicious and the alcohol was far more plentiful than I was initially led to believe. It started with wine, then moved to champagne, and ended with signature cocktail sipping. Two hours later, my head was spinning as Frank drove us back to the hotel.

"Why aren't we going home?" I mumbled in the back seat.

"Clark, your dad, said we had to be quiet if we stayed at your house. And your sister can't stay quiet," Frank replied, flashing a toothy grin to me over his shoulder.

"Oooooo," I stage whispered as Gretchen blushed.

"Shut up, both of you!" she shot back, mock slugging her fiancé, "Besides, little sis, you are drunk. I cannot bring the apple of Daddy's eye back wasted."

"I'm not drunk. I'm...tipsy," I argued.

"Either way, you are coming upstairs and napping yourself presentable."

I crossed my arms and slid lower in the seat, "Fine. But only because I want to see your sweet hotel room."

The hotel room was indeed sweet, but I couldn't really appreciate anything but the cloud soft pillow and the 600 thread count sheets. Moments later I was out cold.

"She's gone," I heard through the cotton in my mind. The room was dark and warm. Befuddled, I began to roll over to log my objection.

"So?" came my sister's reply, all low and throaty.

"So I can give you what you're craving."

I froze. I shouldn't have. I should have just sat up and said, "Sorry, but I'm awake." But I didn't. I was just too damn curious.

"Stop," my sister moaned in a way that sounded nothing like a 'no.'

"Are you sure you don't want this?" Frank pushed as the sound of a zipper being undone echoed in the room.

"Please?" she keened, sounding desperate and hungry, like an addict staring down her fix.

"That's ok. You are worried about Kelly waking up. I can just put it away."

"...no..." came a quiet voice.

"What?"

"No...don't."

"Ask for it."

"Please, Frank."

"Say it."

"Please...please don't put your cock away. Please...please fuck me."

"Why?"

"Because...because I need to be reminded what a desperate cock hungry slut I am."

I rolled over slightly, quietly, to watch the action in the mirror opposite my bed.

"I want to fuck you from behind while you stare at your sleeping teen sister."

"Frank, come on."

"Or I can just put it away."

"No!" my sister's voice became forceful even as the desperate edge grew.

"Then say it."

A long pause.

"Fuck me while we stare at my sister's tight teen body. Fuck me while we both imagine her joining us. Fuck me like the desperate little whore I am while I am dripping wet with the thought of taking your perfect dick and burying my face in her perfect tight teen cunt."

"God. You are disgusting filthy tramp aren't you?"

"Mmmhmm," she moaned like that alone was going to make her cum.

"Take off your clothes. I want you completely naked while I fuck you brainless."

"But what if she wakes up?"

"Then she can watch as her fucktoy of a sister gets fucked until I spray my cum all over your back."

My sister made a noise then. Strangled and helpless and desperate in equal measure.

"You like that, don't you?" he added, the cruel grin in his voice unmistakable.

"You know I do, you bastard," my sister replied, her voice a low purr of depravity. Through barely opened eyes, I watched Gretchen shimmy out of her clothes, admiring her body. I made a mental note to tell her all that pilates she was doing was clearly paying off.

When she was naked, Frank roughly spun her around and tossed her on the bed, face first. My sister whimpered with something undeniably akin to delight. He slapped her ass and she groaned. Again, and she moaned. A third time and she begged for more. He granted her desire. So many times I lost count. Then, finally, he plunged himself into the quivering mass of lust than had once been my sister with a single stroke.

"YES! Thank you! Thank you for treating your dumb little whore so well," she practically wept in gratitude. I should've been repulsed at her utter degradation, her reduction from smart competent woman who I had always looked up to to...object; to a glorified sex toy openly debasing herself and thanking her fiancée for facilitating it. I should've been, but...I might have wanted him to fuck her nearly as badly as she wanted it at that point. I was on fire and soaked. I wished I was bolder, wished I had the guts to sit up in bed and finger my frantic, hungry sex while we watched one another. But I could only lay, frozen, and stare. Stare and feel my body scream with need.

Then Frank took her. And took her. And took her. Never, even in porn, had I ever seen like a pitiless fuck, such a display of one human being so thoroughly used by another. If my sister did not keep moaning, asking for more, and begging to be further despoiled by her fiancée's words and deeds, I might have been tempted to conclude she had been switched out with some "real doll" blowup doll.

And yet, once again, I found it thoroughly arousing. Frank did little for me, even now, but the situation and, I confess, the look of my sister—naked, flushed, wild-eyed, frenzied—was insanely exciting. I did not want it for myself, but I wanted to see my sister this thoroughly soiled, this totally fucked, all the time.

Before I lost all control of my faculties, thankfully, Gretchen came a third time and Frank confessed he was close.

"Cum all over my back," she groaned, her beautiful but clearly fatigued body beginning to collapse into the bed below her. Still, even in this state, she kept her ass high, presented her wiling cunt for further plunder.

"Baby, please..." he moaned.

"No," she replied, a hardness in her voice I had honestly forgotten she was capable after recent events, "I told you. I'm your filthy, disgusting, braindead little slut now and forever. But if you don't wear a condom, you can pull out."

"But you're on the pill..."

With a growl, Gretchen pushed herself up off the mattress on all fours again, fucking herself back into Frank. Then, as she sensed him peeking, she pushed back hard one final time and disengaged herself, his seed bursting further onto her ass and lower back moments later.

"Oh shit," he groaned, half in satisfaction, half in disappointment.

Gretchen said nothing in returning, just smirking and wagging her finger in his face. After a long kiss, she dragged herself from the bed and haltingly, stumblingly head to the bathroom.

"Get some clothes on," she ordered him, "and make up the bed. I'm going to rinse off your delicious batter. When she wakes up, I don't want her to have any idea what a sick freak her sister is, is that clear."

Frank nodded. Clearly the roles had reversed once more.

As she closed the door, he half-heartedly punched a pillow mumbling, "I just wish...just once..."

I nearly laughed. How quickly he had gone from ruler of my sister's very being to a dejected kid who didn't get exactly what he wanted.

After my sister emerged from the bathroom, clean and dressed once again, I gave them five or so more minutes and then stirred, slowly, making a big show of my "waking up."

"Hey," I said, ladling on a heaping helping of "sleepy" and tussling my hair.

"Hey yourself," Gretchen replied, smirking, "Someone has to learn how to hold her liquor better before she goes away to college.

I stuck my tongue out at her in reply while reaching for my phone to check the time. "Damn! It's like 8! No way is Dad not going to ask questions about where I've been," I declared, suddenly a bit panicked.

"Relax," my sister reassured, "We called him and told him we were having some room service and watching TV together and you'd be home around 10. You're fine."

I nodded and then, raising my eyebrows asked, "Room service?"

And with that, a knock on the door alerted us to the food's arrival.

Frank gestured to the door with a "See" before rising from the bed to get the eats and tip the man.

XXXXXXXXX

An hour or so later, with Gretchen fading fast, Frank agreed to drive me home. Two minutes into the drive, I just couldn't keep what I had seen to myself any longer.

"So...my sister is quite the little fuck tart, isn't she?" I smirked at my future father-in-law.

"Sorry?" Frank half-coughed in reply.

"Don't play dumb, Frank. I was awake the whole time you were fucking her. I heard every filthy word you said to one another. Even the ones about me. Especially the ones about me."

"God," he exhaled, fear sketched clearly over his features.

"Relax," I purred, shifting in my seat so I was on my knees facing him, "I'm not saying I minded, am I?"

"No," he replied hesitantly.

"So, maybe that means I liked it. Maybe that means I was...am soaking wet."

"Umm...wow. Well...you can't tell your sister. She'll be mortified."

"That her little sister witnessed what a delicious little slut she is? Yeah, probably."

I glanced down to his lap, his jeans tented a little too much to be an accidental bunching of fabric.

"Mmmm," I nearly growled, "Is this making you hard, Frank?"

"What?! No. I mean...look I-I-..."

"Oh believe me, I am looking."

I confess, even in that moment, I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing. But I was horny and a lifetime of hearing about my perfect older (half) sister made the desire to lead her fiancée astray palpable. I might not have known what I was doing, but a none too small part of me was considering the idea of secret dalliance.

"Christ, Kelly..." he sighed, visibly giving in already. Of course he was. Who hasn't spent a moment or two fantasizing about their significant other's younger sister?

"Yeah," I whispered, "Just like my older sister, right? A filthy cock hungry slut?"

His breath hitched before he replied, "Not just like, no. Your sister...needs to be degraded, dehumanized...she can't...she needs the her who fucks to be different from the her that doesn't. She can't reconcile it otherwise. You though...I've seen the way you move, the way you flirt. Being called a slut might excite you but it's because you feel empowered, not diminished by it. Your sister gets off on it because she's terrified of her dark side. You get off on it because you know it's your only side."

"Oooo, well said," I replied, my hand grabbing his cock through his pants, "That must be why I'm going to suck my future brother-in-law's dick until he blows his load down my teen throat."

He grunted and groaned, saying nothing.

"And you are just going to drive and fuck my pretty little mouth, aren't you? You aren't even going to pretend you are loyal to my sister, are you?"

I pulled the zipper as I spoke.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, "I shouldn't do this."

I paused, leaned in, tongued his ear, and then whispered, "No you shouldn't. I'm too young for you. You are committed to someone else. We are in a moving vehicle. And you still can't help yourself. Because you are fucking weak and I am everything in the world you want."

He hissed then, but made no attempt to argue.

"That's what I thought. Pathetic. I can't wait to make you a cheater. I am going to swallow every drop of your sweet seed while imagining how you are ever going to look my sister in the eyes, knowing her little sister is a better cocksucker and knowing I might give you an encore blowjob at any moment and you'll have no will to do anything but make me gag on your dick."

Without warning, Frank jerked the wheel left, taking us into a darkened business park, pulling into a spot hidden from street view by the dumpsters. He flipped on the overhead light.

"I want to watch you," he quietly intoned.

"Yes, you do," I replied, feeling as in control of anything as I ever had.

Undoing the small button on his boxers, I removed the only barrier between his cock and the world. With a slight shimmy, he moved the rigid pole over just enough that it lifted outward.

I won't lie, it was fine enough I suppose, but it wasn't what had me excited. The act, the sucking of my sister's fiancée's cock, that was the thrill. I doubt there was a look or a size that would've dissuaded me. It's average size and appearance, therefore, made little aesthetic impact. All that mattered was that it was vaguely forbidden dick—the cock of an older attached man who I had gotten to crumble under the weight of his own libido with little to no effort.

With a wink, I dipped my head, swirling my tongue over and around his head. I debated if I should tease him, but my interest lay only in making his explode. He was already desperate for it. If I wanted him more, perhaps it would've been worth the effort, but I was chasing the experience, not the man.

Thus, a moment later, I impaled my throat on his hard member, gagging and sputtering, to his vocalized delight. It took me a moment to realize I wasn't tasting him, I was tasting her. Gretchen. My sister. Her lust still all over Frank's dick. And now all over my tongue, filling my mouth.

He realized the same a minute later and tried to warn me, gentleman that he was.

"Shit! Kelly! Stop!" he almost screeched, "Gretchen...us...I never got to shower. She's still all over me."

I stopped and looked him dead in the eyes, licking my lips. I kept my hand pumping his cock, which, despite his concerns, remained rock hard.

"Why do you think I'm sucking you with such fervor?"

"She's your sister," he replied incredulously.

"Half-sister," I corrected him, "And don't act so put off. We both know you loved to see how drink Gretchen's cream directly from the source."

"Fuuuuck!" he exhaled, his dick bouncing with need despite his attempts to appear above his base lusts.

"Exactly what I'm thinking. Maybe sis would like to grind her sweet little pussy all over my eager teen face?" I began to stroke him harder. "Or you could fuck her from behind as she tongued my smooth bald cunt? Isn't that what you wanted her thinking about today as you took her?"

"It's just...just a fake thing. A fantasy," he groaned, his hips rocking to meet my pace.

"Maybe for you. Think about how wet she was though. She ever get that wet for you? Hmm? Be honest with yourself and I think you have to admit she was dripping at the thought of lapping up my delicious dew."

"God dammit!" he exclaimed, too caught up in the moment to do anything but verbally protest his body revealing what he really thought of it, "You're sick."

"The sickest," I confirmed, "Which is why I'm just going to make you spray all over your clothes."

"What?!" he cried out in panic.

"Yep, gonna send you back to sis with dried cum all over your shirt and pants. Good luck explaining that."

"You fucking whore," he spat, as much in admiration as anger.

"Oooo, that sounds good," I teased, "You want to make me an 18 year old whore? I think I'd like that."

He groaned as I slightly altered my stroke.

"And you would too, wouldn't you?" I continued, "Paying your future sister-in-law to get you off? Because you just need it so bad? Having to explain why you are taking money out of your shared account 2, 3 times a week? Sneaking around like a junkie?"

"Fuck yes!" he confessed, too desperate to have any dignity.

"So how much is it worth to you to fuck my pretty mouth with abandon? As fast, as deep, as rough as you want? Give me a number."

"Fifty?" he whispered, hopefully.

I began to stroke him with both hands.

"Seventy-five?" he called out, shaky.

I bent my head towards his dick, then shook my head.