Continuation of this controversial incestuous story.The house, now bathed in the harsh midday light, seemed to mock me with its feigned normalcy. Sunlight poured through the windows, illuminating the dancing dust in the air, but nothing could erase the darkness that had settled in my chest. Hannah, after last night, moved with a lightness that was almost insulting, as if sacrificing her virginity had freed her. Her glances, when crossing paths with me in the kitchen or hallway, were possessive, an invisible chain binding me to her. Amelia, on the other hand, was a dormant volcano. Her movements making coffee or flipping through a magazine had a cold precision, but her eyes, when they met mine, gleamed with a venom that promised retribution.
I was a rat in a trap, caught between the two, each with their claws sunk into my soul. Yesterday’s lunch was merely the prelude; now, the stage was set for something worse. Hannah, with her temporary victory, seemed to challenge Amelia with every gesture the way she sat close to me on the couch, her hand brushing my thigh as if marking territory.
Amelia, however, was not one to yield ground. Every smile, every phrase laced with false sweetness, was a veiled threat, a warning that the game was far from over.
That afternoon, while Hannahshowered, her off-key singing echoed down the hall, a melody that seemed to mock my anguish. I went to the living room, seeking a moment’s respite, but Amelia was there, reclining on the couch, her dress riding up her thighs, bare feet crossed like a queen on her throne. “Tired, my son?” she asked, her voice honeyed, her eyes fixed on me as if she could read every filthy thought crossing my mind.
“Trying to breathe,” I muttered, sinking into the opposite armchair, my hands restless in my lap. She laughed, a low, almost feline sound, and stood, walking toward me with a deliberate slowness that was pure theater. She stopped in front of me, so close that her scent a mix of jasmine and sin enveloped me. “Breathing’s easy,” she said, leaning in until her lips grazed my ear. “Escaping what you want is the hard part.”
Before I could respond, she knelt, her hands sliding up my legs, reaching for my zipper. My body, the traitor, reacted instantly, my cock hardening under the fabric. “Amelia, stop,” I whispered, glancing at the door, my heart racing at the thought of Hannahcoming downstairs. But she ignored me, her fingers already undoing the button, pulling my pants down with an urgency that brooked no refusal. “Relax,” she murmured, her mouth so close to my cock I could feel the heat of her breath. “She’s in the shower. And I know you want this.”
Her tongue found my cock, licking the tip with torturous precision. I swallowed a groan, my hands gripping the armrests, as she sucked, her hot, wet mouth taking every inch. The wet, obscene sound filled the room, and I, eyes half-closed, prayed the shower’s noise would drown it out. But fate, with its cruel laugh, never plays in our favor.
Hannah’s singing stopped. The silence that followed was a guillotine hovering over my neck. Amelia, oblivious or perhaps intentional, quickened her pace, her lips tightening, her throat deep, as if trying to tear out my soul. I heard footsteps in the hall, light but unmistakable. “Fuck, Amelia, stop,” I hissed, trying to push her away, but she dug her nails into my thighs, holding me in place. “Let her see,” she whispered, my cock still in her mouth, her eyes glinting with a challenge that chilled me.
Hannahappeared in the doorway, wet hair dripping onto the floor, her robe loosely tied, revealing the curve of her breasts. Her eyes widened as they found us, but there was no surprise just icy fury, a betrayal she’d already anticipated. “You slut,” she spat, her voice trembling, fists clenched. Amelia, with an almost psychotic calm, released my cock, the glisten of saliva on her lips like a badge. “Jealous, darling?” she retorted, standing and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “He’s not your toy.”
Hannahadvanced, eyes blazing, but I stood, cock still hard, pants around my ankles, and stepped between them. “Stop, both of you,” I growled, voice hoarse, heart pounding like a drum. But Hannahignored me, her gaze locked on Amelia. “You’re worthless,” she said, her voice low, each word dripping with hate. “But he’s mine. And I’ll prove it.”
In a swift motion, she yanked the robe’s belt, letting it fall. Her nudity, bared without shame, was a weapon, a provocation that made Amelia’s eyes narrow. Hannahstepped closer, trembling fingers clutching my shirt, and kissed me with a fury that was pure possession. “Fuck me,” she whispered against my mouth, loud enough for Amelia to hear. “Here, now, in front of her.”
The air felt solid, every breath a struggle. I looked at Amelia, expecting an explosion, but she just crossed her arms, a crooked smile returning to her lips. “Show me what you’ve got, girl,” she said, sitting on the couch, legs crossed as if watching a performance. The challenge in her eyes was clear: she wouldn’t yield, but she wouldn’t stop it either.
Lost between lust and guilt, I let Hannahguide me. She lay on the rug, legs spread, her wet pussy glistening in the daylight. “Come,” she ordered, voice firm, eyes fixed on Amelia. I entered her, my cock sliding easily into her tight heat, each thrust drawing moans that were both pleasure and provocation. Hannahmoved with me, hips rising to meet mine, nails digging into my shoulders. “See?” she gasped, glaring at Amelia. “He’s mine.”
Amelia, impassive, took a sip from an imaginary glass, her eyes locked on us. But there was a tremor in her hands, a crack in her facade. “Keep going,” she said, voice cold but tinged with desire. “I want to see how much she can take.”
The pace quickened, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. Hannahcame first, her body shuddering, a muffled cry against my neck. But she didn’t stop, her eyes still on Amelia, each thrust a strike. I, trapped in that hell, felt my climax building, but before I could hold back, Hannahpulled away, kneeling and taking my cock in her mouth. She sucked with a hunger that was vengeance, eyes locked on Amelia as I came, cum coating her lips, dripping down her chin.
Amelia stood, her slow applause echoing like a verdict. “Bravo,” she said, voice thick with sarcasm. “But this isn’t over.” She passed us, her dress brushing my skin like a threat, and climbed the stairs, her heels marking the rhythm of a war just beginning.
Hannah, panting, wiped her face and pulled me into a kiss, the taste of cum still on her lips. “She won’t have you,” she whispered, voice shaky but resolute. “You’re mine.” But as she spoke, I heard Amelia’s footsteps upstairs, the creak of her bedroom door, and knew the battle was far from over.
The house, with its silences and secrets, was a labyrinth of forbidden desires. Hannah, with her sickly jealousy, claimed me as a trophy. Amelia, with her insatiable hunger, plotted her next move. And I, poor bastard, was doomed to be the pivot of this tragedy, caught between the sister who possessed me and the mother who devoured me, until fate, with its inevitable cruelty, decided who’d be left in pieces.
