So Yes
by Losgud
Copyright© 2026 by Losgud
Incest Sex Story: My first new story in a baker's dozen of years. The recipe may sound familiar. Ordinary boy is watching late night t.v. in the den, while his sister is having a slumber party elsewhere in the house. Suddenly he is no longer alone as his sister's gal pal appears in the den, alone. One big fucking guess what happens next. And subsequently after that...? This is wordy and weird and the story line is more like a collage. I imagine many will dislike it, and that's okay. Otherwise, as always, enjoy!
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft Consensual Incest Brother Sister .
So yes, it was just another Saturday night in the life of a teen boy total loser. It wasn’t such a bad life, trust me. I was left alone way off in the added-on family room, the sofa and color t.v. all to myself. I still had some soda and snacks galore left over. See, I always bought the big bag of Lay’s sour cream and onion potato chips. And the Coke came packed in these new liter long plastic missiles.
Hello, metric system; welcome to America!
See, time had passed, and SNL was over, so I’d switched channels to some grainy old movie that sort of deserved to stay old. You know, shot in black and white, and of the level that no one ever thought to colorize it.
I also had my current reading open in my lap, because the commercials they aired in the wee hours really were the worst. The book wasn’t much better than the movie--I was learning how it too didn’t deserve to be colorized. So I kept going back and forth, and wound up losing track of both plots.
I kept trying to not think about how my sister was having a sleeping bag slumber party with her best friend in the distant living room. Did I not mention that her friend Leslie was also a girl? Did I not mention the bare fact that simply thinking about girls made me get so fucking hard that thank god there was a relief and release valve? I had an old athletic sock nicknamed Lady Pathétique.
It surely wasn’t my fault that girls had such cute little butts in their tight little shorts. Or swaying almost solemnly under their short little skirts. Not to mention the way their shirts tented out in slight but not so slightly intriguing pairs up in the front. Except, you know, to totally fucking mention it. Because there they always were. So lovely beyond any comprehension.
Precisely why bold girls wear t-shirts emblazoned boy magnets.
I couldn’t begin to tell you why boobs were so absolutely mesmerizing, but they were. I kept thinking about just giving up, turning everything off, and just going up to my room to go to bed, and you can guess the tissued rest up in my tawdry and nasty nest.
Way earlier in the evening, I’d actually been so bold as to try and hang out with them in the living room. After all, I’d driven us all down to the convenience store to score all our snacks. But my sister had driven me off, out of the room.
After all, what was I? Like some sort of a pervert or something? Because I was interested in girls in slightly slurpy oversized sleep tees, and presumably teeny tiny wittle panties? Guilty as charged, I guess. What boy my age wasn’t?
Her friend, however, seemed to enjoy how I lightly flirted with her. Joined, we were like a butterfly--her wing flapping in unison with mine. But then that was the extent of that, as I retreated into my banishment. Meg’s glare drove me out of the room.
Hours later, remember how I continued putting off going to bed, when the movie actually got a little interesting? There were gunshots, and a subsequent car chase scene shot really noir.
I had one of my bed pillows to make things really comfy on the sofa. Maybe that was a bad thing, because, despite the action, I kept nearly nodding off.
Just as I was considering packing it in, calling it a night, there was motion in my periphery, a shadow as suddenly Leslie appeared in the doorway and snuck into the room. She put finger to lips to shush me. She came in and plopped herself almost unceremoniously down in on the other side of the small sofa.
“Hey Markie, what are you watching?” she almost beamed, while I almost shot off in my shorts. The tingles ran up and down my spine while my arms prickled with goose bumps. Do you even need a guess at what was suddenly all astir between my legs?
No one had ever called me Markie before. It sounded like chocolate melting in her mouth. Never had two syllables sounded so sexy, and so full of promise.
“G-g-god, I don’t know,” I sputtered, trying to regain a bit of composure, “some boring old movie. Where’s Meg?”
“Oh, she’s totally sacked out,” she sort of snickered.
“So ... what are you doing still up?” I cautiously inquired.
She shrugged, and then gave me an honest if penetrating gaze. “Oh, I’m feeling too horny to fall asleep. How about you? What’s your excuse?”
You can easily guess what was almost instantly going on in the boxer style bottoms I always slept in. In short, in shorts, what started happening between my legs becoming not so short. The thickening and all that sort of that such sticky sort of stuff.
And then she whispered, “Are you still watching this boring old movie because you’re horny, too?” Her hand reached over and barely brushed my bare thigh. Her little fingers lightly stroked a small circular patch of my bared skin. I just about jumped out of said skin.
Her smile continued so sweetly. “Maybe we should do something about it. You know, help each other out and all. But only if you want. Meanwhile, what do you want? Do you like this?”
Her fingers traveled further across my smooth skin, until they were stopped by a curiously oblong lump, unfortunately still clad. I gave an inadvertent gasp in response to her heavy-fingered and overbearing inquiries. I swear, it was almost more like a squeak than a squawk. “Are you interested, hmm?” she continued, “Because it sure feels like it to me.”
My supple little mouse became a big stiff rat, like it was mounted and stuffed with granite. And already hanging somewhere in your bedroom. Over there, with all your other trophies and ribbons.
Her fingers started lightly stroking up and down along that bulging barrier. That sadly ineffective Maginot Line. Then her other hand seized my nearest hand, pulling it over and pushing it down, cramming it up under her sleep tee and down between her creamy thighs, pressing my collective fingers up against the scrap of fabric better known as the crotch of her teeny tiny panties.
Do you really need me to tell you the tale of the dampness of said sad fabric? So sad it seemed to be nearly sweeping in its weeping. Should I also talk about the ferocious heat of that specific area and arena? That it was very nearly dripping with her internal, almost infernal moisture?
Personally, I’m guessing everyone in the audience already figured that one out. Because, who wouldn’t? Who couldn’t? You’d have to be an absolute retard not to have, and I guess that’s my point, exactly.
I had absolutely no idea what was going to happen next as we stroked one another through such flimsy filmy slips of fabrics. Should I actually slip a finger under the elastic and actually touch her most fleshly stuff?
She was the bold one first, pulling my waistband down almost impatiently, indeed nearly urgently. My big secret popped out and she gave such a sweet little gasp as she lashed out and latched on and upon and then just firmly grabbed it.
To my, I admit, utter merriment.
She grinned at me. “Dude, why did you never tell me that you’ve got such a nice big one!” She started jacking me, so I thought it was appropriate that I slip a finger under the elastic to find her swollen wetness.
“Oh god,” I groaned, “umm, maybe because, ahh, you never oh-my-god ever asked?”
Hand jobs sounded great to me. I was getting absolutely awfully close, but then she disengaged and stood up. Which gave me a chance to cool off. I thought she was leaving me hanging until she smiled and shimmied out of her panties.
She wriggled until they dropped to the floor and she stepped out of them. She bent down and picked them up, gave them a sniff, and then flung them in my face with a gasp of laughter.
Lord, the passing luscious scent as they bounced off my nose and fell into my lap, getting sort of tangled up, hanging off my apparently nice big one. She casually brushed them aside, off to my side, as she mounted the sofa on her knees and effectively straddled me. She reached a hand down and grabbed and gripped my cock, holding it steady as she just sort of just sat down.
Plopped down, really. Or at least that was the sound it made.
Like on the most welcoming stool in the entire luncheonette. It was like a social movement. A few precious seconds, frozen in time. It was like a bomb pop from the ice cream man.
Does anyone really need me to describe how that felt? I didn’t think so. The only miracle was that I didn’t shoot off instantly. Leslie immediately started bucking like she was the star of the rodeo, so I grabbed her hot ass cheeks to help pull her down, calming her down.
If you want to win the bull-riding contest, you have to last at least a little bit of control. Hopefully, for all involved, a bit more than barely a bunch of seconds. Hear the horn and live on.
That settled, my hands moved up to try and lift her sleep shirt up and off, but she resisted that, slapping down my arms and attempts. “What if someone comes in?” she objected. Well, in that case, what if she jumped off me and slid to the other side of the sofa to disguise what we were doing? Wouldn’t that leave my glistening erection pointing towards the stars to give us away anyway?
You couldn’t be sure which way the evidence would sway.
If there’s one thing in the world that I’m not, it’s stupid. My gasping grasping hands contented themselves with slipping up under her shirt to discover her lovely little mounds. Judging by her sighs, my hidden fingerplay on her nipples was well appreciated, as our joined hips did the time-honored motion known as rock and roll. Shake, rattle and roll, to be precise.
It wasn’t long before Leslie leaned down and started grinding against me, triggering her fireworks. Once that began, I too was lost to ecstasy. God how I gushed up inside her, as she gushed down upon me.
As we recovered, nearly nose to nose, lips on lips, I move my hands to her hips to help her get off me. She brushed my arms away, “What are you doing? We’re not nearly done yet!” She sat back up erect, utterly flipping back her wet locks of sweetly sweaty hair, just as her drenched cunt hairs began coaxing my cock back from the edge of early retirement. I was shocked, not knowing such a thing was possible so quickly.
Leslie possessed previously unknown, to me at least, talent. Before barely too long we were back where we’d begun. And that was quite right by me! I started bucking back up against her. I had the sofa springs as my friends, my backup as we bounced, but then instead she suddenly rose up and lifted off me as her feet regained the floor.
My inflamed and throbbing cock bobbed around and looked ridiculous as it seemed so lonely, seeking the perfection suddenly lost. It looked just like Proust, searching for his precious fucking madeleines.
She cracked up watching my face. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s just about to get even better.” She moved to lie down at the far end of the sofa, grabbing my bed pillow from behind me, tugging and tucking it firmly under her ass as she squirmed and finally settled down.
Her legs flopped open almost, actually so absolutely, lewdly. She was, as all the scientists say, presenting herself. She wiggled her bottom further into the pillow because she knew exactly how cute that would look. The utter enticement of her most earthly delights. She wiggled and giggled as she watched how I jiggled.
“In case you can’t tell, I’m already well lubricated,” she laughed lightly, like a leaking light sauce or source, “so what are you waiting for?” At that, she visibly started leaking my first load. “My god!” did next she giggle, as the trickle did seem to sort of tickle.
Well, that certainly got my next load fully locked and loaded.
I turned and shifted fully onto the sofa, on my knees. Like the stallion with his mare, I covered her. Except backwards or in reverse or something, as we were belly to belly. Not that I really needed any help--she had a hand eagerly ready, willing, and able to seize and guide me to and into our common and combined goal. A gaol of sorts. God, how I sunk in ever so deeply. And god how we both like totally groaned. We snorted and whinnied. It was like we were the tiniest, most intimate thoroughbred choir ever.
The advantage of having her pinned down like that was that I was able to at least wrest her shirt up enough to expose her exquisite breasts. Again, there was no explaining the fascination, the why of it all. They were small scoops of vanilla ice cream topped with a spray of sprinkles. I got distracted, palming them, tugging at the maraschino cherries. Leslie indulged me, but when I lowered down for some sucking, she pushed me up and away.
“Dude, the time for foreplay was like yesterday.” So we went back at it in earnest. The way her hips moved with my thrusts and parries made me almost forget all about her tits. But for the fact that they did look so delicious as they jiggled like twin mounds of Jello. You know, topped with maraschino cherries, just in case you didn’t catch the joke the first time.
The angle of and on the sofa cushions, with the added pillow, was apparently perfection for Leslie. She started squealing almost immediately. That urged me on even ever more frantically. The noises we were making down there were so dirty and nasty and frankly almost embarrassing! All those squishy slurpy snick-snicking sounds.
God how we fucked! I never knew it could be like this. Ever before, sex was something the girls agreed to let you do, giving little obligatory yawns as they politely waited for you to finish. Afterwards, in answer to your question, they admitted that yes, it was good for them as well.
Whereas Leslie whimpered and sprawled and groaned and squealed and gasped, as her hands grasped, gripping and clasping onto my butt and then running upwards, her fingernails raking bloody furrows up and down my fucking back.
When she hovered, hesitated, and then completely collapsed once more into orgasm, I was done as well. Her clenching cunt made my balls completely explode. Jet after jet of my seed surged into her waiting womb.
In the aftermath of our combined ecstasies we lay there, me upon her, like a pile of rotting corpses. We stank of the sea, like rot that’d washed up, just to rot some more in the sun. My shrinking cock finally popped out of her, and when it did, she gave the sweetest little sigh. And then, and only then, did she roll me off of her.
“So wonderful,” she whispered. Her lips moved in to kiss mine, lightly, barely, yet still sort of brightly, indeed almost sprightly. Having rolled out from under me, she then rose up from the sofa and stood up. I too at least sat up. “I better get back, just in case Meg stirs.”
As she moved towards the door, I picked up her tossed panties and held them aloft. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I gave a little smirk.
She smirked back even bigger, “I’m not putting those back on--you made them get all gooey. Consider them your participation trophy, you dirty filthy panty-sniffing pervert you!”
So yes, after that, the dumb movie trickled out to its sorry end. It wasn’t really all that late, but all the other channels were all so fucking boring. I turned out the lights as I gathered up my pristine book, my soiled pillow, and a sordid pair of panties not originally my own property, officer.
I swept us upstairs to my tidy little lair. Where, what with the scented pillow and extra fabric, I was astonishingly hard again. I know I kept the panties pure, but I otherwise have no idea where that particular wad wound up landing. As in splattering, repeatedly, almost senselessly. Who doesn’t liken such spray to artillery fire? Or a little more accurately, a sawed-off shotgun.
The gun explodes in your ever-loving and absolutely loser hand.
So yes, I wound up really mad at myself that I slept too late. Despite all my mad scrambles at getting up, Leslie was gone home by hours by the time that my fact in fact happened. For all the days in advance, I had no clue what she thought about all that despoiling we’d done.
And Meg didn’t seem to want to convey any sort of fucking clues whatsoever. Her face was impassive in any passing face. Though once, she once whispered, in a hushed brief passing, brushing past in the hallway, many days later, the succulent trill of birdsong, “Somebody likes you!”
So yes, a couple of weekends later, they had another splendid sleeping bag slumber party planned for in the living room. I’m not too special, but I do love me some repetition. Can you even imagine what I was feeling? It was one of those weeks where you wore you heart in your throat. The abrasion, I’m told, took years off your life.
It was exactly like you had a clot of dry meat stuck in the tube down to your tummy. You weren’t sure if you’d suffocate first, or just wind up a drowning victim from all your stupid fucking vomit.
Because it was one of those unbearable Saturday nights when SNL totally sucked. From the cold open into the womb that somehow never quite blossomed. You were embarrassed that you kept on watching. After that, the only movie worth watching actually wasn’t.
This time, I hadn’t bothered with the by now pretense of the book. I could, at worst, simply retreat with only my woeful pillow firmly dangling in hand.
But then, like from stage left, Leslie entered the room like she was in a play, and of course she was the star. She swept around my outstretched legs to firmly plonk herself down on the other side of the sofa from me just like before.
In a robot voice, she said, “The sister unit has fallen asleep, beep.”
Like the witless boy I was, I was speechless. She smirked a bit, then let it broaden into a smile. “There’s the bit about the boring old movie, remember? Remember the reason we were both still awake so late? And then, remember? afterwards. You know, when we went fucking like foxes?!”
This time she let me lift up and pull off her sleepy tee. She sleepily introduced me to her most perfect heft of breast. She laid down on the sofa and basically let me have at her several times. Which she pretty cleverly clearly enjoyed herself.
Her juices wound up dripping down my thighs, thank you very much.
So yes, of course later I made my play to muddy the waters entirely. Maybe we could, you know, like go out some time. Maybe go to a movie; perhaps share a pizza. A playful picnic in the park sounded perfect to me.
“I like this,” she shrugged, cutting me off ever so gently. Her ankle kept rubbing almost hypnotically up and down my calf. “I think it’s really good. But just so you know, no way am I ever going to be dating my best friend’s brother. That would just be just too weird. You’re a great guy and a great fuck and a great catch, but that’s not happening here, between us. If you don’t want this, that’s totally cool.”
Problem was, meanwhile, nearby, almost always, I continued almost continually wanting that this. In fact, so fucking repeatedly that I can’t even hope to enumerate the number of sins thus smeared across this shameful landscape.
I stupidly basically thought that meant that of course, stupid, there would continue to be these slumber parties, though really there was no practical reason for you to stay up late, despite your sorry state. I quickly learned my assumption was totally wrong.
So yes, this continued. This time we were just coming down, the both of us, but then Leslie took a deep breath, apparently recovering her senses. I was just softening when her cunt started kissing me back into business. Back into action, still in the saddle, back onto active duty, sir! Per the usual, I might add.
There was some little noise over on the room’s periphery that barely registered with me. The house was settling, or maybe perhaps some minor poltergeist activity. Why would I even pretend to care?
Man, I was getting so fucking hard the second time. Leslie looked over to the side and licked a smile a mile wide. Then she abruptly rose up and sort of rolled away. She stood up and left me sticking up all slick and sticky up into the chilly bare air.
“Lucky you,” she said, looking stage right, “I saved you some.”
Right about then, my little sister sort of sidled into the room, looking more than a little confused. My cock didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Decide yea or nay. Be switched on or off.
The minute that happened next is what’s known in the business as an impasse. Meanwhile, ever the optimist, my cock stayed the slut, jutting up and whispering dirty words to every girl in the world, not to mention the very room.
Leslie made a snarky snort. “Girl, if you don’t want it, I’m all about the sloppy seconds. Just ask him.”
But then, as my baby sister lingered in discovery, Leslie’s mouth widened in disbelief as the realization blossomed. “You mean you guys don’t do it? You aren’t already going at it? Why not? Everyone else in the universe thinks of course you guys are doing it. Because, to reiterate, why not?”
She gave a wiggle of a giggle. “God it’s so great! Stevie and I have been doing it for nearly two years. God it’s so great. You get so much hot sex, and you don’t have to worry about your reputation.”
Unless you happen to fuck a brother so stupid he brags to his friends about it. His drug friends, and his friends from the fry kitchen where they all work, and basically any other drunk fucker on the next stool over at the bar, and all that blah-de-blah.
Then, yea, you’re definitely in trouble. It’s like your face is guaranteed to be staple gunned to all the phone poles. But that describes a universe well away from ours.
Meanwhile, over here, this way, Meggie moved slightly closer over. Leslie swallowed an absolute cackle. “Look at it twitch! Dicks don’t lie! The dick, it seems, never lies. They’re bred to be that way. They’re all fucking dowsing rods in the end, every last one of them!”
Famous last words, I shrugged, I smiled. I couldn’t possibly help how my honest cock throbbed and bobbed in disbelief.
“They locate the source of the dampness down below, is what I’ve always heard.”
My sister looked at me as Leslie narrated further, “A dampness that, turns out, always so thoroughly enjoys becoming discovered.”
So yes, I witnessed the exact moment the shift happened. My sister’s eyes gave a slightly crazed and crackled and glazed back look, then she smiled back and stepped forward, coming even closer. As she closed in, each hand snuck under her sleep top, lifting the hem of it ever so slowly and seductively and only slightly, just enough to showing me her pretty panties.
Swiftly and yet softly, she was stepping out of her panties. Her hands moved from shirt hem to waistband. She shimmied them enough to drop past her ass and slip to her ankles, where she delicately stepped out of the fragile and portentous garment.
The final steps towards the couch she wide-walked, almost at a waddle, letting her walking legs surround my seated legs. Then she kneed her way onto the couch above me and then just sort of hovered there above my tremendous need, her steed, smiling lightly down upon me. Don’t bother with the reins, guide me with your knees!
“Please let me do this part,” Leslie whispered. I felt her hand grab and grip my shaft and hold it firm as Meg slowly lowered herself, seating herself correctly. It was just like the Soyuz-Apollo docking. Did you know they made a great pane of stamps about that? The space thing, not my sister slowly descending down onto my base by sliding down upon my dick.
Leslie attempted to keep her fingers around down there, but Meggie was having none of it, swinging her bit of hips around to dislodge her. They were laughing while I was about coming, so I grabbed those errant hips and ground them to a stop. “Slow down,” I whimpered, “please!”
Leslie snorted a funny noise and moved away, settling in at the far end of the sofa. All her fingers, left unattended, tended to start tickling her own nipples and clit. “God you guys look so hot together.”
So yes, up so close, the supposed sleep tee of Meg’s proved instead rather silky and lacey.
She’d left the delicate camisole on, a move of deliberate modesty, no doubt about it. Her buds underneath but barely nudged the fabric. My fingers loved fingering the fabric, deciphering the lacework like Braille. But those ten whores wanted more.
My sister fought my fingers at first. It did seem a little ridiculous. I just sort of hissed, “We’re doing it Meggie, my god, we’re finally fucking fucking! And I totally want all of you.”
She dropped her arms, letting them go limp, letting me lead. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed. I barely even have any tits.”
So yes, she let me lift her arms back up again as I lifted the light fabric up her torso and over her head while past her arms and finally fingers.
She wasn’t wrong in her self-assessment, just any further assumptions.
So yes, when I cupped her breasts, my hands went and were just about flat, but my palms felt how her nipples were instantly stiffening from just that light pressure. They suddenly felt like twin corks, quivering to explode. Releasing the Champagne, and the Kraken.
Meggie reddened and whispered, “I’m sorry they’re so tiny.”
I whispered back ever so gently, “That doesn’t matter. Why would that matter to me?” as I gently handled her. “They’re your lovely breasts--that’s all that matters to me. That’s what’s so damn sexy to me.”
We watched each other’s face, our eyes locked.
“Can you even believe it?” I whispered hoarsely, “I’m feeling up my sister’s lovely little titties,” I made my sister giggle and whimper all at once.
So yes, I just sort of plucked at her distended nipples and made her shudder. “They’re really sensitive, aren’t they?”
“You better believe it,” Leslie echoed.
Lord how she moaned under her breath. I continued on about how I promised to cherish and worship them. I then bent down and gently started like a suckling.
My own sister, my god! And oh, by the way, her nipples greatly enjoyed being between my lips. Meanwhile, they both, the both of them, became instant besties with my tongue!
So yes, leave it to Leslie to dive in and grab the nasty panties and then shove them in my face. The web of the smell of my sister happy on my face, while my sister herself just happened to be lowering herself over and down onto and upon to my torrid cock. Or was it turgid? Or torpid? I’d never thought of my cock as a torpedo ever before. I sure did from now on!
Did you ever guess I’d start fucking my own sister right back? Because that’s exactly what I did. It was so crazy to watch us from above, which I guess basically defines an out-of-body experience. The Northern Lights, yo, shot up from down south.
I’d apparently died, my soul now floating above while looking down upon as my dead body kept right on fucking the shit out of my own blood sister. Her gasps totally rivalled and riveted her ribald gash. Gush, I suppose; plural, gushes. As in, the ones I be pumping deep up into my own sister’s dressing room!
Girl, I’m up in the clouds madly pulling my shirt off, I don’t care who’s watching. I’m just trying to get back close enough to manage the drop and then go straight to ground. I kept trying to flip her over onto her back on the sofa, and she kept refusing me!
She kept yipping like a coyote until I couldn’t help but let the wolf howl right back. I mean, my stupid donkey bray right back.
So yes, the aftermath was exactly like the slaughterhouse everyone was expecting anyway. Mules alongside the canal, dragging the barges of corpses up and down the tow path.
I was just adjusting to what just happened when she just hopped right off of me.
The girls gathered up their scanty discarded clothing, giggling while bending over. They revealed themselves, knowing I was helpless to respond, unless at least maybe with a little sucking, please?
They approached like a plague, the pair kissing each cheek. Then they scattered away as a fluttering pair, like those little light cabbage butterflies out in your garden.
So yes, Leslie squealed first, “Girl, you got dirty leg!”
Meg has never been outdone, never ever in her life. “Look at you, girlfriend--both your legs got both infected and infested.”
I stayed there on the sofa, still somewhat stunned. In my state of near absolute ruin. Drained, as they brag and bray. And it was true, as I sat up and watched them walk out of the room.
The snail trails of my semen were trickling down the inner thighs of the both of them. My lap was left so ridiculously wet, then damp, and finally just sticky to the touch. Not to mention, most moist and fragrant.
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