Pushing her before him he placed her at the foot of the bath with her elbows hung over the rim, her knees bent, and her feet flat on the bottom, so that her thighs and stomach were thrown out toward him. Pushing her legs wide apart, he gently lowered his head to her until, at last, he planted a big wet kiss in her burning crotch. With her head thrown back, she drove her lithe young body up against him and clamped her thighs about his face, in ecstasy as his tongue found her ready slot and slid into it. But she couldn't retain this position for long and began to slide down into the water under him until his nose gurgled underwater and he had to come up off her.
"A kiss for a kiss!" he wetly murmured, and with his hands under her ass turned her about so that in a minute he was lying on his back, with his feet stretched out and up over the sides, the rim hooking him behind the knees and raising his lower body up out of the water, while she was half-kneeling in the water, her thighs resting on his shoulders, the whole great wonderment of his now fully erected prick available to her eyes, hands and mouth.
As he gently pulled her down until she was clamped over his open mouth she, in turn, needing no instructions as to what he wanted, though she'd never ventured to be quite so obvious in her compliance before, placed one hand under his balls and, squeezing them, let the other play gently up and down the fine upstanding length of him. Her long blonde hair hung straightly down to either side of her face so that she fancied herself in a kind of cavern, veiled not only from his sight but his inward sight as well, cut off from all reality except this strong, tanned, rubbery bar of flesh with its two round ridged and hairy partners… and the other end of the long, hollow tube which was her mouth, at which he munched and chewed and blew and sucked and licked like some perpetually unsatiated elephant.
All sense of time and place forgotten, fogged in by the hot steam that rose from the water beneath her, flushed by its fetid nearness, Maryon dreamily puckered her young rosebud red lips and lowered them down and over his already inflamed tip, breathing against the distended hole in its center and letting her slim fingers play up and down the blue-veined length below as though he were a flute and a sinuous serpent both, the one fantasy merging into the other and out and back again in her head. She let her long narrow tongue complete the circle of her lips, washing it about the clean silk dome until she felt it pulse, then parted her dainty white teeth and let them scratch lightly against his aroused rod as she lowered her head.
Between her legs there was now only a seething cauldron of hot, flickering sensation as his own broad tongue forced its way into her welcoming vagina and his teeth grated on her fragile-seeming pelvic girdle. Forcing her lips and teeth still further apart until her jaw began to ache, she strove to take him into her, swallowing at him, tasting the saliva that came to lubricate the monstrous morsel and at the same time noting a new honey-and-vinegar confection tantalizing her palate. With both hands now she tried to cram him into her mouth, shivering deliciously as his tip reached the back of her throat and, as she stretched her slender neck, ease down into it. Between the fullness of her mouth and the closeness of the steaming room, her air supply severely limited, Maryon plunged into a feverish state of lovely lassitude, fondly fondling her brother's taut and trembling testicles and as much of his proud-stanced prick as was left outside her for her fingers to gratefully grasp, and gulping and gobbling at the rest of it, swallowing at its sensuously strangling tip and licking it with as much license as its swollen, pulsating bulkiness would allow.
Sublimely eager to achieve the impossible task of drawing more of his beautiful manhood into her, the twisting twelve-year-old raised her body from his and thrust out her neck like an angry goose and, perhaps as her hard-centered roseate breasts swung sweepingly down along his belly, Mike discharged into her, himself flinging his jaws wide and chomping into her young and tender treasure-house, letting his straining tongue delve for trove there.
His sister shook like a leaf in the breeze as his liberated sperm hosed hotly down her throat, and his spasmodic, snaky length of cock swelled and throbbed in her mouth. His large hands came up to span her hips and press her down on him and then she felt herself burst inside like a suddenly and mightily squeezed orange; whose juice was hot and stinging as it sluiced into the empty, yearning, air-sucking cavity of her virgin, cock-cunctating cunt. She gnawed the air through distended nostrils as the center of her body drew drowning breaths from her, her flanks heaving in rhythm with the inward draughts of suction. While her hungry munching frustrated lower mouth bit down on warm ice cream, the melting Mars-bar thrust in her throat became, for her, a compensation, and for want of sexual sustenance between her legs she satisfied herself by sucking on the sublime substitute that filled her blood-rushed face until, at last she'd – thawaad! – its last sour-sweet marrow-drop and its wilting husk lay on her tiny, tireless tongue, inert and lifeless.
Her own juices drained from her jaw-torn, coughing loins and she dropped her head half into the cooling water, licking her little lips and tasting still the acrid cheesy ripeness of her big brother's powerful and pungent cream.
"Guess we'd better get on with our bath, Sis," said Mike, his husky voice dimly penetrating the red-slashed pink heaven of her thoughts. Consumed by memory, she slowly got off him, delivering a tender kiss to his shrunken, relaxed cock as it lay there, laved by the water…
THIRTEEN YEARS OLD
Pretty and precocious, Maryon found the following year's Christmas due to be dull and unhappy.
It was not because of anything she'd done, or because of her increasingly sex-fantasied life's real-world disappointment, though sometimes in the secret nights of her 'soul' she would wonder whether it might be some 'judgment' on her that things had gotten so screwed up. Did her frantic, often frenzied fingerings of herself in the dark hours somehow radiate a sort of mood or aura out from her, that affected the others in the house? She didn't seriously think so, of course. Still, it was queer, the way it had all happened so suddenly…
First, quite early in the year, suspicious Lois had at last braced herself to personally check on some of Burt's overtime activities, and had found him quite truthfully making time – with his office typist, in the back seat of a floor-model '64 sedan, demonstrating the exquisite ease of his personal synchromesh system, though not without a considerable amount of double-clutching, and in the process flooding the girl's own carburetor, though using a steady-enough stroke. The appearance of Lois' furious face at the window effectively cut his ignition, however, though the unseeing underlying girl's motor continued to turn over for several seconds.
The result of this discovery was to send Lois to a lawyer, seeking divorce, with her trump card the fact that, should she tell Burt's boss of his demonstration techniques her future ex would find himself fired from a lucrative job. But, of course, the better the job he had, the better the alimony prospects, so it was a stand-off of sorts. However, the couple had separated with Michael, preparing for college, ostensibly staying with his father, though he had a pad of his own, and Maryon left with her mother. Lois, taking the whole thing badly, had herself started an affair with a sympathetic, bar-met male by the name of Jim Harris.