Roberta Taylor - Nasty Sharon

Sharon sighed with pleasure, tingling sensations racing through her cunt, as her brother soaped her breasts.

She lay in a tub of warm water under a blanket of bubbles like whipped cream. Using washcloth and soap, Buddy had opened two holes in the white blanket, baring her rosy tits.

He slowly laved the floating sphere of her left breast. It kept bobbing away from his touch, but his caresses caused the nipple to harden.

Deep inside, Sharon felt a vaginal fluttering that made her want to arch her back and raise her seething split to his touch. But she restrained the urge.

Buddy whispered, "Sis, your boobs float."

She almost giggled. Was he just learning, at age eighteen, that tits floated? Well, he had only this week arrived home from military school, where the boys saw females only in girlie magazines. Still, at his age Sharon had known anatomy by sight, feel, taste, smell. Sharon was twenty now, and she viewed Buddy as a child, but an unusual child.

He knelt on the bathmat, leaning over her. He was baby-faced, with brush-cut blond hair. She wished his hair could grow out to yellow curls of hippie length. He would look adorable. But his summer vacation would be too short, and in the fall the military school would again shear his golden locks.

A hint of pale-colored hair on his chin served for beard. He looked so young that Sharon almost regretted having conned him into bathing her.

She was holding her hands out of the water. A strip bandage crossed each palm, supposedly hiding the bums from a hot kettle. A lie, but a white lie. He had to lose his cherry sometime.

Below the chin fuzz he seemed adult. His nude torso was husky, and the chopped-off jeans he wore as shorts contained a cock Sharon would not believe real if she had not yesterday seen him jerking off. She had watched him pull a prick worthy of a pony, a shiny pink curved rod that in her inflamed vision had seemed larger than her own forearm and fist.

He was fingering her nipples, bending them to test their resilience.

He choked, "Sis, they're really big! I've seen how they stick out in a bathing suit, but I never figured they were so long. Are other girls' knobs like this?"

"Buddy, haven't you ever seen a girl's breasts?"

"Well, sometimes a chick wearing a halter leans toward me and I catch a look. But usually they have little buds, or just pink puckered spots."

"Stroke them, Buddy."

His fingertips drew circles on the aureoles and Sharon squirmed. A ribbon of heat was writhing in her belly. She glanced over the rim of the tub at his crotch. The denim fabric was stretched by the force of his erection. His cock was a salami, an began that would make any woman drool at mouth and twat. Sharon got up to see it better. A lock of chestnut hair tumbled down over one eye, a dull color compared to the flames that now seethed within her.

She gasped, "Buddy, wash my legs now."

She toed up the slippery sides of the tub, sliding her heels out on opposite rims. Her long, tapered legs gleamed golden under the dripping suds. Her snatch surfaced.

Buddy stared at the pussy hair waving like seaweed in the suds and began scrubbing her left leg.

He whispered, "Sis, you sure have a pretty body."

"I'm gad you've noticed. I've been around a long time though. Why haven't you mentioned it before?"

"But you're my sister!"

"Half-sister, Buddy. It makes a difference. Besides, Father is away so much it's like we haven't got one. And your mother and I are not really friends."

Blushing deeply, he turned to scrubbing her calf and ankle. To tease him, Sharon arched her back, raising her twat out of the water. The wetted hair flattened and clung to the contours of her plump mound and split crotch.

Buddy paused in washing her leg. He stared at her soapy loins. She saw his Adam's apple bob. Sweat broke out on his upper lip.

She spread her legs wider, kneeing the sides of the tub, then braced her heels to lift her entire split out of the suds.

She asked huskily, "Don't you want to wash my pussy, Buddy?"

His face flamed. "Sis! You mean, wash your"

"Cunt."

He gulped, but moved the washcloth from her calf up to her thigh. His head shook as he squished the cloth over her hairy pubic mound and then between her legs. The washcloth got lost. Sharon, impatient, helped him by reaching down and fingering her mound, drawing it back, opening the hairy lips of her twat. Buddy touched her gash. His finger moved as lightly as a goldfish gulping at the yawning split, roaming the folds of flesh, stroking the swollen clitoral bud, finally finding her hole.

Groaning with pleasure, Sharon looked over the rim of the tub at his pants. The big sausage stretching the leg shimmered in her vision.

She asked, "Don't your shorts bind you, Buddy? Doesn't it hurt to have your cock cramped up like that?"

He nodded vigorously.

"Let me unzip your pants, Buddy."

She pinched the zipper tab and, with some difficulty, drew it halfway down. Drumhead-tight material stopped her. She yanked the waist snap and the shorts opened like a splitting melon. A blond ruff of pubic hair bushed out. She grasped the bent-down root of his cock, digging the whole prong out of the pants leg. Her breath wooshed out in surprise.

She hadn't realized how large it was an oversized cucumber, the handle of a ball bat, a war club. The feel was like clutching an iron bar embedded in concrete pink, taut and shiny. Swollen blue veins marked the sides of the up curving shank. But this magnificent stem was slender compared to the bulging pink knob. Would her hand cover it? Oh, the plush-soft surface! She finger nailed the split open and saw glistening flesh inside, like a tiny cunt. A drop of cream drooled out. She smeared it on the glans.

She gasped, "Buddy, it's a giant! It's the most beautiful tool I've ever seen!"

"Is it?" he asked weakly.

"Your balls, let me see your balls."

She turned to him, using both hands to tear down his pants. His testicles seemed to hang halfway to his knees, as big as peaches, in a pink scrotum. She squeezed the swollen nuts. Clinging to his stem with the other hand, she stared at the cockhead, spread out like a cobra's hood. She turned in the tub and bent to within inches of the glans.

"Buddy, I want to suck it!"

He protested, "Sis, it's not right! You're my sister!"

"Do you want me to?"

"It's not right."

"What's right is what feels good, Buddy. That's my philosophy." Elbows on the tub edge, she extended her tongue and licked the split in the end.

Buddy gave a moan that shook his body.

She tasted the white juice, then tongued around the flaring rim of the head. The flesh was so soft, yet the shank in her fist backed it with iron.

"Ahhh! Sis!" he cried.

Fisting it in both hands, she kissed the point, then forced her wet lips open on the curved shape. She licked the tip, fluttering her tongue, as she pushed onward, stretching her jaws to consume the giant knob. It was like trying to swallow an apple. From the plump tip it tapered out in all directions, except for the flatness of the glans underneath. She nibbled up those long slopes. Stretching her jaws once more, she pushed her teeth over the flare, shoving until her mouth was full, and then began a voluptuous sucking of the velvet-clad bone.

Buddy gasped, "Sis, what a blow job!"

She drew back, baring saliva-wetted pink cock, back to the head, then pushed forward, eating it in, seeing the thick trunk extended before her vision to its rooting in the huge, blond, pubic ruff.

It was a cock that would drive women ape-shit. They would pay for it, would ruin themselves for it.

Sharon was thinking of her female superiors at the Sunland Motel.