Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
|Introduction: Duquan is terrorised by his two older sisters but there are some benefits that are hard to ignore.|
Quianta unlocked the front door and then pushed with her shoulder to get the door open. The door stuck and there was a piece of carpet which was coming up that would partially block it.
“Dookie! Dook!” She yelled, “Duquan! Where are you?”
“Right here,” Dookie said. He looked up from the TV. An Xbox racing game was playing out in front of him. Dookie was playing lazily, letting his car drift into water barrels in the turns.
“Where your sister?” Quianta asked.
“She ain’t home yet.” He said, looking back to the TV. His elbow twitched up as he exaggerated a near miss and contorted his body in the direction of the turn.
“Where momma at?”
“You know, she around the way.” That meant their mom was out getting high. ‘Around the way’ probably meant Aunt Stea’s house or maybe she was over, crashed out on Tyrell’s stank-ass couch.
“What you doin?” Duquan shrugged, he knew that wasn’t what she was really asking. He was doing exactly what it looked like he was doing. “Huh, Dookie? Ain’t you bored?” Quianta flumped down on the couch next to him. The springs were worn out so she sank low and her body rolled toward his as everything naturally sought the center of that couch. She played with her nails.
“When Shaquila getting home?” Duquan shrugged again. She knew the answer to that question too. Shaquila was at night school on Wednesdays. She wasn’t going to be home for another hour or so. “Dook!” She said pushing his arm. His car twisted in its lane and bounced off a guard rail. He corrected. Quianta saw this and grabbed his arm, shaking it. Duquan’s car climbed a Jersey Barrier and spiraled through the air until it crashed in a fire-flower of parts against the second floor of a building. As the car was reset, Duquan gave his sister a shaded look.
“Shaquila’s at school, Quee! Damn.”
“Why you wanna play that anyway? Quianta snuggled up against him pushing her fingers into his spongy hair. “When you got me here to play with.” Her other hand dropped to his leg and slid along the inside of his thigh.
This is the way it was in the Jackson house, eleven year old Dookie left to the mercy of his two older sisters, the depravations of his mother’s addiction and the occasional visits to his daddy, Kareem up in Santa Rita. Duquan put the controller down, his shoulders sagging. He stared straight ahead at the TV as his sister ran her hands all over his body.
His sisters had started playing with him a few years earlier as they had both become sexually curious. It started out as just another way to tease him. Shaquila would wrestle him to the ground and then hump against his butt while she pressed his face into the scratchy carpet. The two teenaged girls made him undress in front of them and they asked him personal, embarrassing questions about penis, his tiny balls and his foreskin. As they began to get interested in boys at school, they started using Duquan for practice. At nine he got his first blowjobs from his sisters. They would play house with him and have him suck on their newly developed breasts for hours at a time. Eventually they took his virginity and taught him to eat their pussies. Now, they did anything they wanted with him. He was their toy.
Duquan’s mother didn’t know about any of it. She had yelled at the girls once when she saw them wrestling and Quianta was sitting on top a a prone Duquan, “Dook! Don’t let your sister sit on top of you like that, shit look nasty!” Other than that, she had been to preoccupied. Her interests were in her boyfriend, Tyrell and her slow decline into catatonic waste. Duquan was on his own.
As Quianta pulled his growing penis from his drawers and took it in her mouth, it was hard to find anything immediate to complain about. His sisters were thick, good looking with great, round asses and pendulous breasts. They were tall with big lips and skillful tongues. Dook was barely one hundred and ten pounds, his older sisters outweighed him by at least thirty. For a young boy, just hitting puberty he was in the position to have as much sex as his body could handle. He told himself often, he was blessed. His friends would be so jealous if they knew. If he had any close friends. It wasn’t something he could ever tell anyone.
On the screen his car was sitting in the center of the road as other cars buzzed past on either side. Quianta pushed the head of his penis deep into the back of her throat and drew off in long slow strokes, surrounding the head with her juicy, pillowed lips. His initial resistance was dissolving, melted by a warm mouth. His penis was not very big and Quianta was able to press her nose all the way into his spare thatch of newly grown pubic hair. When she swallowed her throat muscles clamped on the head and sent shivers up his spine.
“Take your clothes off,” Quianta ordered. She sat back, knees folded under her and appraised him. Dook seemed to shrink under her scrutiny. He was suddenly tall in the last year due to a growth spurt which also left him rail thin though he did sport some stringy muscle. His sister by contrast was still taller than him but also filled out every inch of her revealing clothing. Her denim shorts looked like the skin of a ball, inflated to capacity with her roaring sexuality. Her large breasts were supported by a black lace bra which could be seen through two layers of gauzy tops, her cleavage bubbling up like lava. She had a small belly, exposed above her waistband which was nevertheless made insignificant by her massive hips and ass. Straightened hair, eyeshadow and oxblood lipstick were set of by enormous gold hoops in her ears. Quianta presented a fearsome figure, a Zuni fetish of powerful womanhood to contrast Duquan’s spaghetti thin arms, narrow hips and sparsely haired, tiny flagpole of a penis.
Once he had undressed, Quianta stood and took a dramatic step back. She unbuttoned her fly, which immediately sprang open the zipper like a can of ready-made biscuits as she peeled the paltry excuse for pants slowly down. Duquan understood that he was to give her his full and complete attention in this moment. She was demanding his worship in her performance. Quianta was a young woman with the full knowledge of her magnetic sexuality. She locked here eyes on his, making sure that he fully appreciated the blessing she was giving him.
Shorts discarded her black thong seemed to vanish into the puffy outer lips of her labia. She thrust her hips forward and pulled her thong upward so that every convolution of her pussy could be expressed through the fabric. She clenched her great ass and masturbated herself, standing in front of him, tugging on the fabric and mashing it into her folds. His penis twitched in time with his heartbeat as he sat mesmerized by the display.
“You gonna eat this pussy,” she cooed, “You gonna get your face all up in this wet pussy. Yeah, you know, this pussy is hot and it needs you to cool it off, Dook.” With that she stepped forward and put her hand against Duquan’s chest, forcing him down on the sagging couch. She planted a knee on either side of his head, pulled her thong to the side lowering her wet cunt to his face. “Eat that pussy for me, Dook. Eat that fucking pussy!”
Trapped below her, he had no choice but to take her magnificent ass cheeks in his hands and lap at her hole. Her weight forced almost his entire chin and lower jaw inside her and smashed his nose against her clit. For seconds at a time he could not breathe but, by now, he was fairly skilled at this and managed his air as he pushed his tongue deep inside and applied suction to the upper passage of her vagina. She bucked atop him grinding her clit over his nose and upper lip. Soon she began to moan.
“Aw shit, baby. That feels so good. That feels so fucking good!” She grasped her large, fabric covered, breasts and kneaded them, finally popping a top button with her roughness. She rode his face like a bike for ten minutes, pushing her fingers into his hair and pulling his head as deep into her crotch as she could get it which twisting and squeezing her breasts.
As she got closer to cumming it was all Duquan could do to just hang on and get enough air. He pushed up on her ass cheeks to get a little room and doubled down on her clit. He knew the sooner she came the sooner it would be over. Though it turned him on to have her wet pussy plowing across his face, his jaw was tired and his nose was sore from the pounding from her pubic bone. It took only a few seconds more before she was writhing and screaming above him. He felt her pussy juice run down his chin as she came.
She scooted back and sat down, her full weight on his chest and they both panted for breath. Duquan could taste blood. His upper lip and been mashed against his teeth. He reached up and wiped a sweaty arm across his wet face. His entire chin, mouth and neck were covered in her juice.
Just as her weight was starting to get too much for him on his chest, she slid back further, bumping her wet asshole and cunt across his penis. His cock had begun to flag due to jaw pain and breathing concerns but now it came back to life as she ground her wet pussy along his shaft and rubbed her clit against the head. She barely recovered from her last orgasm but was ready to get off again.
There was something irresistibly sexy and raw about this well built woman sitting astride him, her top covered but her large shapely legs, crotch and tummy bare. Her vagina was like a vortex, the center of all sexual energy. She pulled a tit over the top of her shirt and bra and leaned down, thrusting the large nipple into his mouth while she slid her soaking pussy up and down over the shaft of his penis.
“Suck on my titties, baby.” She said, frantically unbuttoning her top and yanking down on her bra. He reached around and helped, now expert and unfastening the strap, with rough animal gestures the two of them removed all of her clothing. She humped him hard, fucking her clit against his cock, mashing her wet lips into him. It felt amazing and terrifying to Duquan, being ravaged by her lust.
“You gonna be shooting real spunk in a minute. Cain’t be putting it in me without no rubber no more. You don’t wanna get your big sister pregnant do you? Huh, Dookie? How would that be? Getting your big sister, Quee, pregnant with your baby.” She removed his mouth from her tits and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “That’s incest.”
His penis was absolutely drenched with her cum and pussy juice. She reached down and guided the head of his sloppy cock to her asshole and rubbed it around the hole. “I can still put you in my ass though. Your little penis is just the right size to go in my ass. You like that shit, too. Don’t you baby. You like fucking my ass.”
She pushed down and Duquan groaned and grabbed her hips as she sank down to the hilt. He gripped her ass hard and intelligible words were driven from his vocabulary. He could only grunt and writhe as her tight asshole gripped and massaged his small dick. He thrust his hips upward and she clamped her sphincter down on the base of his cock. He was so deep in her. So deep his balls nestled into her asscrack. Her wet pussy slapped against his pubic hair and she rolled her hips in circles atop him. She grabbed his chest and bucked on him like she were riding a mechanical bull, relentless in her pounding.
A long keening wail built up and erupted from his throat as the long train of his orgasm approached the station. It was like the horn of the BART coming out of the East-Bay tunnel. The rumbling of the tracks and the cushion of vibrating air signaling the oncoming power. She frigged her clit and tugged on her nipples, twisting them violently.
“Yeah! Cum in my ass, cum in my fucking ass!” She shouted at him as he gripped her hips, raising the skin white beneath his fingers. His groan became a bellow and he lifted his sister bodily off the couch as he thrust his hips upward, his taught leg muscles straining. “Cum, the fuck, in my ass, Duquan!” She commanded.
He did. All ten cars of the train roared into the station, knocking off hats and blowing over bookbags. The world was filled with a white noise, total and all consuming as he pushed spurt after spurt of jism into her, emptying his tiny balls into her bowels.
And then she was cumming too. Her polished fingernails a blur as they buzzed over her clitty. She was lurching and jumping on top of him, her pussy drooling cream over his pelvis.
“Aw damn!” she exclaimed, standing up on weak legs. “That shit was great!” she paraded around the room in a circle and pumped her fists. “Fuck, Duquan, you hella nasty!” She said approvingly. “Now get in that shower and clean your ass up before your sister get home!” She picked up her blouse and wiped her ass and pussy with it. “Don’t take too long, neither. I need to get in there too.”
As Duquan struggled to his feet he picked up his own clothes, balled them up to carry them upstairs with him. He kicked his shoes in the general direction of the front door. As he mounted the stairs his sister threw her own clothes at him, all except her shorts which she was busy pulling back on.
“Put those in the hamper for me too.” She said. He stared at her for a moment, stunned by her presence. She was an nubian amazon, standing with feet apart, hands on hips, wearing nothing but a tiny pair of denim shorts which she hadn’t bothered to zip up or button. She was barefoot and bare-breasted, filled with an overwhelming self assuredness which was made her the center of the room. The center of Duquan’s universe in that moment. “Git, Duquan! Stop fucking staring at me and take your shower!” She hollered. He hurried up the stairs.
End chapter 1
Read 11892 times | Rated 78.5 (93 votes)
Please rate this text: