Ron Taylor - Hot for brother

Rachel was standing on tiptoes, putting away the cups and glasses, when a pair of hands encircled her body. They lingered for a moment at her waist, then slid upward as if magnetically drawn toward the full, soft curves of her breasts. "Oh!" she said, nearly dropping a cup in her haste to turn round. "Oh," she said again, lips curling into a gentle, loving smile. "Hello, darling."

Jon's answer was a kiss, planted firmly upon her warm moist-lipped mouth. She melted into his arms, enfolding him as he enfolded her, and they clung together, merging souls in that kiss. Her heart fluttered against his body and, as she pressed closely, she felt the stinging of his cock. The penis rose inside his pants, a rapidly erecting muscle, and she strained to feel its masculine pressure touching her loins. His hand stroked up and down her back, feeling at last to cup her buttocks, and Jon pulled her even closer while Rachel squirmed passionately at his erotic embrace.

"Now," he whispered, moist breath dampening her cheek and upper lip. "I want you now, darling!"

"Come upstairs," she invited, breathing huskily. "Come upstairs with me. Strip me. Throw me on the bed and mount me. I want you, too!" Her hand moved into the space between their bodies and she traced the outline of his throbbing cock inside his trousers. He was rampant now, and she shuddered delightedly as she fingered his hard steely lance.

"I can't wait," he laughed slyly, relaxing his hold. Rachel stepped back, her ass bumping into the kitchen counter, and the instant she stopped moving, Jon's hands flew to the buttons of her blouse. "Here," he said. "Let's fuck right here. In the kitchen. Now."

He unbuttoned her blouse, flinging the shirt open. His hands immediately closed upon the white-cupped mounds of her tits, and he squeezed and kneaded them with a passion that walked the thin line between savagery and tenderness. Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, causing her tits to lift and rise, filling his eager hands. Her nipples were up, as stiff as his pecker, clawing at the soft nylon of the brassiere in their desire to be bare and free and available to him.

By that time he'd leaned in to his work, tongue scraping on the lightly tanned flesh just above the lace trim of Rachel's bra. She quivered when he touched her there, a lovely delicious quiver that tingled her from head to toes. She put her hands on his head, messing his hair as he licked her skin. "Darling!" she said.

"Now," he repeated, tugging at the white bra until one cup yielded, fabric pulling low to allow the escape of a beautiful brown nipple. His tongue slapped her teat back and forth, the limber bud moving as he licked it, and then he had her nipple in his mouth, sucking, pulling as if the tender pap were a string of flexible taffy. Rachel's fingers dug into his scalp, her head and shoulders tossed back, and she was trilling a soft wordless cry of joy into the pleasant afternoon.

In another moment he had the bra unhooked, and she was bare to the waist almost before she realized. "Oh, hurry," she told him breathlessly as he fondled and kissed her naked tits with hungry excitement. "Oh, hurry! I can't wait!"

Jon straightened up, his eyes glazed with passion as they scanned round the kitchen. "Where?" he asked her. "On the floor? On the table?" Then he brightened, and be tugged at Rachel's hand. In two giant steps he led her to the dishwasher in the corner, and his hands went crazy on the fastening of her slacks.

"The curtains!" she gasped, using her hands on his face. "Close the curtains! The neighbors may be watching!"

It took him almost no time at all, and he was with her again before her hands had a chance to fall to her sides. He undid her slacks and dragged them swiftly to her ankles. Rachel stepped out of the fallen pants with a soft, almost girlish giggle, and his fingers were already running back up her legs, hooking into the waistband of her panties. Down they went, and she raised her legs to help him get them off. "Up," he commanded, grabbing her around the waist. Effortlessly, as if she weighed scarcely an ounce, he lifted Rachel and sat her atop the dishwasher. Her legs opened automatically and he spread them a little wider. He caressed her legs as he feasted his eyes on the pink slit, visible among the auburn curls of her beaver. One of his hands moved into her crotch, twining through the silky curls of hair, fingertips brushing up and down the line of her well-defined gash, and she squirmed and moaned when one of those fingertips dared to make the most unobtrusive kind of entry between her cuntal lips.

"Ohhhh yessss!!" she purred, swiveling her hips and scooting toward him as his fingertip slipped into her pussy. She wiggled her bottom, rippling cuntal muscles all around his intruding digit, and he thrust a little deeper, this time showing her conclusively that he was in earnest. "God!" she sang in a yipping, happy voice, "you certainly know how to hit the spot!"

"Try this," suggested Jon, extracting his finger and angling his face into the spread of her legs. He braced his hands on her legs and rubbed his chin on her dampening gash. Rachel sighed and cooed and clutched her tits in a vain effort to soothe the aching throb which coursed through their rounded curving mounds about twice as often as her pulse beat. Her nipples stood up, thick and swollen, between her fingers and she squeezed at them, obviously relishing the little stabs resulting in erotic harmony.

His tongue paddled through the delicate splay of her pink pussy quite snug for a woman of Rachel's age ranging up and down the slick vulva flesh, lingering a long, dreamy time in the neighborhood of her hot cunt. Dear God, he had a way of using his tongue on her trigger that that Rachel closed her eyes and trembled with the petite explosion of a mini-orgasm, and she tried to close her thighs upon Jon's neck, to trap him forever in the musky hotbox of her cunt that he might never cease giving her this lovely kind of head, the most beautiful she'd ever known.

The only kind she'd ever known, as well, but that didn't matter. He was the only man who'd ever done this, or anything else of a sexual nature, to Rachel, and he was the only man she'd ever wanted. Not in her thirty-eight years had she ever felt the slightest twinge of desire for anyone else. Except perhaps Marion Brardo in Desiree, but that was only a movie and she wasn't sure it counted. And moments like this ah! Ahhhhh!! they were the proof that she'd given her heart and pussy with true wisdom.

His tongue snaked a serpentine pattern around her glistening, sex-charged cunt, and he kissed the hot dew-misted bud with the same passionate eagerness he'd given to her mouth. She was just coming down from that first climactic high, and his lips on her button nearly sent her floating again. She moaned, knowing that it was as good now as it had ever been. She squeezed her tits with vigor.

She squeezed until they ached like beaten, bleeding flesh, and it was enough. "Oh, Jon, darling," she told the man, "give me all your tongue! Lick me inside and out! Oh, please put your tongue inside me!"

He was only too happy to oblige. Fingers prying wide her delightfully snug-lipped twat, Jon thrust his tongue up Rachel, into the juicy inner swamp of her sex, and she groaned with renewed arousal. But if his tongue was so satisfying, how much more so his cock.

"Your prick now," she begged. "Give me your prick!!"

Again that tongue shot up her pussy, probing as if he wanted to test her readiness. Well, she was sopping wet inside, and if he couldn't taste the cunt-honey she was secreting so profusely, he needed a new tongue. Five minutes ago she'd been busy putting away the dishes, like any suburban housewife the dishwasher was still a little warm, but not half so warm as Rachel's hot ass and now here she was, naked, nipples quivering as her fingers mauled their brown erections, cunt dripping sweet sticky juices all over Jon's tongue and lips.