“My taxi will be here in ten minutes!”

My mother’s voice boomed through the closed bedroom door. It wasn’t locked but Mum knew from experience not to open it.

Hearing her voice and with his handsome face only inches above mine, my brother Mark paused in his thrusting, his long, thick cock; the only one I had ever known, buried deep in my tightly-gripping vagina.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” I begged breathlessly. “I’m so cloooose!”

Indeed, I was close; as close to my beloved brother emotionally and physically as it was possible for a girl to be to a boy. But what was most important at that moment was that I was closer to a massive orgasm than I could bear to be without actually going over the edge and cumming hard on my brother’s cock. The glow deep within my belly had already started to ripple outwards into my chest, legs and spine. For this not to carry through into a full-blown climax was unthinkable, even with our mother knocking on the bedroom door.

Seeing the desperation on my face, Mark smiled broadly and resumed his thrusting with renewed vigour. The sounds of grumbling bed springs and thumping headboards filled my ears.

“Annabel?” Mum called.

“I’d better get on with it,” Mark whispered, pulling a face and increasing the pace of his thrusting.

“Suits. Me!” I gasped.

As the bed’s creaking grew faster and louder, I looked up lovingly into the eyes of the boy I adored, the glow within me growing more intense with every stroke. My chest began to tighten, and I felt the pressure in my bladder beginning to rise sharply.

“Nearly there?” he hissed.

Too close to climax to reply, I bit my lower lip hard and nodded.

“Then hold on Annie, here we go…” my brother croaked.

Mark’s thrusts became jackhammer fast and wildly erratic as he slammed himself into me, the head of his erect cock battering my cervix every time his hips slapped against my inner thighs. The ripples of heat in my belly became a wave which rose higher and higher.

“OhmyGod! OhmyGod!”

The whispered words burst unbidden from my mouth, urging my brother on to yet more powerful, even faster strokes. The pressure inside me grew stronger, my body tingling and trembling with rapidly increasing pleasure until finally, the wave crested over me and began to break.

As the pungent juices of a massively aroused-female body began to pour from me, wet slapping sounds from our conjoined groins joined the knocking and creaking that filled the room.

“Jesus Annie! Are you two humping again?” Mum’s muffled voice sounded exasperated. “Can’t you ever give it a rest?”

I was incapable of responding; my chest was so tight I could hardly breathe.

“Jesus!” she repeated. “I’m going downstairs.”

She wasn’t a moment too soon; seconds later the room I had grown up calling my own was filled with the wild, feral sounds and rich, earthy smells of a helpless nineteen-year-old girl in full, messy, unconstrained climax.

Seconds after that, her cries were joined by the animal grunts of a sweaty twenty-year-old boy emptying his over-active balls into that same girl’s pulsating vagina.

***

“You shouldn’t be doing it,” Mum said angrily for the umpteenth time as I entered the kitchen a few minutes later dressed only in my bath robe.

She was rummaging through the kitchen drawers in search of some item vital to the smooth running of her evening’s date. In truth, I wasn’t looking my best, my hair was tousled, my face and chest were flushed, my legs were unstable and a trickle of goo had started to run from my vagina and down my inner thigh. Mark was having a shower in the family bathroom upstairs, rinsing my pungent secretions from his body.

“I don’t know how you ever persuaded me it was okay,” she carried on in the same vein. “It’s not natural!”

“Mum…” I began but she cut me off.

“Oh, I know what you said,” she said in a sarcastic, lilting voice, pausing in her search for a moment. “You’ve said it often enough.”

She held up her hand and began to count on her fingers.

“One; you’re both over eighteen. Two; it’s not serious; you’re only having fun. Three; you’re not hurting anyone. Four; you’re on the pill so there won’t be any accidents. Full marks for your gullible Mother?”

In my case she could have added that I was head over heels in love, desperately wanted to marry my brother, have dozens of his babies and spend the rest of my life with him. Like so many girls, I hoped and prayed that Mark felt the same; that all he had said to me in bed and out had been more than just words.

But whatever he really felt about me, we had both agreed that Mum would find our relationship easier to cope with if she believed it was only physical and likely to be short-lived, so all I said, rather bitterly was.

“You’ve missed one.”

“Have I?” Mum replied. “Oh yes. Number five; it’s better to experiment in the safety of home with someone you trust rather than play the field and get a reputation like Caroline Buckley.”

That was another deliberate exaggeration I had used to try and keep Mum onside. My friend Caroline was known to be promiscuous and had a terrible reputation among the parents at school. It wasn’t entirely deserved but I knew it had a disproportionate effect on my mother. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to be thought a slut too, so I had exaggerated Caroline’s sexual antics to make my own seem more acceptable in comparison.

It hadn’t been a decisive blow, and when I was with my friend, I often felt guilty about blackening her name, but there was no doubt the tactic had helped to soften Mum’s attitude towards my illicit and illegal relationship with my brother.

I crossed to the fridge, pulled out a can of Diet Coke and popped it open, perching on the kitchen counter as Mum went through her pre-date-panic routine; going frantically through her evening bag, searching for keys, cash and of course her phone.

I have to say, she looked great; dressed to kill in a very short red dress, white tights and red heels. As a style it was perhaps a little too young for her thirty-nine years, but with a slim figure like hers and with her shoulder-length, expensively-blonded hair, she could still just about carry it off.

With forty just around the corner, I couldn’t blame her for making the most of her well-maintained body and had to admire how ready and eager she was for her Hot Date.

“Just don’t let Mike see the two of you together, okay?” she said, looking up with a frown.

“We’re not stupid Mum,” I replied. “Anyway, we’re both out tonight too, remember?”

Mike was the new man in Mum’s life; they had met through one of the more reputable online dating sites. In his early fifties, he was attractive, well-dressed, affluent and as Mark and I had heard through the wall, good in bed too.

Unfortunately, he was also married, had two grown-up children and was in the midst of a mid-life crisis even we teenagers could recognise. There was little chance of the relationship lasting long term, but Mum seemed unable to recognise this. Mark and I both knew that tears were eventually inevitable, but right now she was being spoiled and having fun – and Mum deserved a bit of fun.

It was to be their sixth date and as such was all but guaranteed to end up in bed somewhere. As Mike’s house was out-of-bounds, that bed would either be in a hotel or, most likely, in our house as it had been three times before. The wailing, grunting and thumping noises that had emanated from Mum’s bedroom had made Mark and me cringe in embarrassment as we cuddled together in my double bed.

Separated from my Dad for eighteen months, it had taken Mum some time to regain enough confidence to get back into the dating scene, but once she had started, there had been no stopping her. For the last year she had been out weekly with her group of similarly divorced female friends and had gradually been eased back into the world of dating.

In the early stages there had been some significant errors of judgement, several of which Mark and I had also heard through our bedroom walls. They had left her puzzled, unhappy and on the verge of acquiring a reputation herself, but she had learned her lesson in the nick of time and her relationships had soon started to last longer than the single nights of passion that had kept her children awake.

The only good aspect of Mum’s early mistakes was that they had left her too distracted to notice that her son and daughter were developing our own longer-term relationship behind her back.

In fact, Mark and I had been sleeping together for over six months before Mum had found out about our relationship, and even then, we hadn’t been caught fucking. Having taken such great care to conceal our frequent sexual activities, in the end we were caught out by a simple kiss in an alleyway behind the multi-screen cinema in our town.

Well in truth it was a lot of kisses and a great deal of fondling too.

Unknown to us, Mum had been taken to the same entertainment complex by her date for the evening. As they were returning to his car after the show, he and Mum had dived down the same alleyway for some impromptu al fresco moonlit sex, only to find Mark and me wrapped around each other in the darkness.

It could have been a disaster, but we were saved by circumstance. At the time she spotted us, Mum’s back was pressed against the wall, her dress was above her waist, her knickers were around one ankle and her legs were wrapped around her date’s upper thighs.

From the noises escaping her mouth, there was little doubting where his cock was.

Just as she had seen us, we had seen her. I’m not sure which of us was more shocked but although nothing was said at the time, the discovery brought both embraces – and Mum’s new relationship - to a sudden, premature end.

The row that followed when we got home is not one I want to recall here, but having been caught in flagrante delicto herself, Mum was in no moral position to pass heavy judgement on her errant children. Besides, by the time we were all home, minus Mum’s date, Mark and I had dreamed up the ‘experimenting’ story which we have stuck to ever since.

Since then, Mum has grudgingly tolerated her children’s incestuous relationship. She has not however accepted it and certainly did not encourage it as this conversation, the latest of many, clearly demonstrated.

“You could have waited until I’d gone out,” she sighed in exasperation as I took another long sip of cold, fizzy liquid.

“It’s Friday Mum,” I replied.

It was all the explanation I supplied; it was all that was needed. During a drunken Mother-Daughter evening a year ago she herself had put the idea into my head, albeit unintentionally.

In order to preserve the fiction among the outside world - especially our father - that both my brother and I were single and unattached, we made sure we went out separately with our single friends at least once every week. Friday was the usual night for this and had been for a long time. I would spend the evening in pubs or bars with my school friends; Mark would do the same with his. Often the evenings would end up in a Club.

The problem was simple; I knew very well that I was not the only girl in town who found my brother irresistible and would like to end the evening with him in her bed. To my certain knowledge, several of my friends felt this way and on occasion in the past, had succeeded.

My virginity was by no means the only one Mark had claimed, but at the time it was happening, though Mark and I were still just ‘normal’ siblings and my hymen was still intact, my jealousy had known no bounds.

Now of course, our relationship was different; he and I were much closer emotionally and physically, but now there was more at stake. Though I in no way mistrusted his love, if and when temptation came his way, I wanted the foremost thought in my brother’s mind to be the extraordinarily satisfying physical relationship he had with me. This I hoped, no one-night stand could compete with. He would thus in theory at least, be that much less easy to seduce.

On a more basic level, I also hoped that enthusiastic sex right before leaving home would to some degree unload his rather impressive weapon, taking the edge off his ardour and reducing the threat still further.

So far it had worked; as far as I knew, Mark and my relationship was still mutually exclusive. But a girl can’t afford to be complacent, especially when dancing and alcohol are involved.

But temptation isn’t a one-way street. On some awkward occasions and only by accident, we had ended up in the same Club. Then, not only did I have to cope with watching the assaults on Mark’s fidelity made by my friends, I also had to withstand the attempts his friends made to get inside my own knickers.

Unless very drunk, I was seldom tempted and so far, had remained unsullied – well, almost. My love for my brother had been strong even before our relationship had become physical; now we were lovers too, it had become absolute.

A car horn blared on the road outside. Mum frowned as she hastily repacked her evening bag.

“I’ve got to go now. Just take care no-one sees you okay?”

“Mum…” I moaned.

“I mean it Annie. Now do I look all right?”

I took a long look at my mother. She looked simply stunning.

“You look great. He’ll love it,” I smiled. “Have a good time.”

Mum started to walk towards the door then stopped and turned.

“We might come back here tonight,” she said, looking rather sheepish.

“His wife’s at home this weekend?” I asked cheekily.

She ignored the jibe.

“Just make sure you’re not… doing anything obvious when he gets here.”

Her voice was more a plea than a command.

“Okay Mum,” I sighed as the taxi’s horn blared again. “I promise. Now you’d better go.”

She threw me a broad grin, turned and walked out of the room. A moment later I heard the front door close behind her. A moment after that I heard my brother’s footsteps through the ceiling above me as he got changed for his Boys’ Night Out.

***

It’s not unusual for a teenage girl to think that the boy who took her virginity is the love of her life, but it is unusual when that boy is her older brother.

The journey into Mark’s bed had been a long one, taking all but one year of my short life, but had been worth every awkward, uncertain step. It would soon be exactly twelve months since my brother’s erect penis had first entered my inexperienced teenage body – the first and only penis ever to do so - and our relationship had started in earnest.

God alone knew how many times we had made love since then, in how many positions and places. God alone could count the number of orgasms my brother had given me or how many times my body had been filled with his seed.

Suffice to say, I was inexperienced no longer. So how did this extraordinary thing happen?

Was it planned? No.

Was my brother taking advantage of me? I don’t believe so.

Did I feel I was being abused? Emphatically not!

Mark and I have always been close. Less than a year apart in age and strikingly similar in complexion and build, we have often been mistakes for twins. But we aren’t twins; Mark is a full eleven months older than me, a fact he used to tease me about mercilessly when we were younger, and he was a school year ahead. Even now, he insists on referring to me as his Little Sister, though there is only an inch between us in height.

From the very outset, Mum and Dad’s marriage had always been tempestuous; full of rows and noisy make-up sex. They had married young – too young perhaps and had come close to breaking up several times before they had finally separated for good.

Although it had never been said out loud, Mark and I suspected that both our conceptions had been either accidental or else misguided attempts to find something that would keep the two warring parties together.

If that had been the intention it had worked for a while, but as time passed, the enormous pressures put on a couple by two small children so close together in age began to bite. The number of rows had steadily increased and the make-ups grown fewer in number until eventually, it was clear even to their teenage children that their relationship would and probably should come to an end.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other, it’s just that two feisty personalities like theirs should not try to occupy the same house for any length of time.

Predictably, the effect on us, their children had been profound too. As their relationship slowly deteriorated, Mum and Dad’s constant arguing had forced Mark and me to rely more and more on each other for support than on our squabbling parents.

From before our teens, he and I had spent many hours cowering in each other’s bedrooms while objects downstairs had been thrown and words shouted that had no place in a child’s vocabulary. On those occasions I had been so upset that I had refused to go back to my own room at all and had inflicted my anxious presence on my brother all night, holding on to him for comfort and some kind of reassurance.

So, from an early age we had grown used to sharing a bed. For a long time, the physical closeness between us that developed was...