Chelsea Rising Ch. 04

*

Dirk stood behind Chelsea as she showed them proudly around her apartment. This was the first time he had been close to her and he examined her with interest. She was wearing cut off shorts and a tank top, and her body was lean and trim, her skin burnished by the sun to a golden lustre. Her waist was slim under the little blue top, dipping smoothly to the swell of her hips, and he could see the curve of her firm little buttocks under the tight material of her shorts. Her blonde hair was drawn back in a ponytail, and could see the fine golden whorls of gold on the nape of her neck and on the soft white skin behind her ear. He leaned forward slightly and breathed in through his nose, savouring the subtle aroma of her perfume and the musky tang of a young healthy woman, and he felt his cock thicken in his pants.

She moved from the kitchen, past the central workbench, passing by the dining room table and into the lounge. Everything was neat and new in its right place, giving a sense of order. His eyes roamed over the worktops as he followed her, noting the calendar hung on the side of the cabinet and the keys dangling on little hooks below it, each with their own little labels. Everything he saw told him a little about his new sister, but he needed to know so much more if he was to dismantle her life.

He stopped and glanced around quickly. The girls were ahead of him, chatting. He reached up and palmed the key under the label 'spare', transferring it to his pocket as he hurried to catch up with them. Perhaps it would fit the front door. He turned to Chelsea, smiling down at her. "This is a lovely flat, Chelsea. How long have you lived here?"

"It's Ben's actually, Dirk - he's my brother. He's away at the moment, but we share. It helps him with the mortgage and it's convenient for me, too."

"Did you buy it together?"

She shook her head. "Oh no, he'd already bought it. It was pretty rough inside, so he got it at a good price. He's spent the last few months renovating it, and I moved in three weeks ago." She waved her hand at the kitchen. "That was a separate room, for example," she said, "but he opened it all up. It's nice, isn't it?"

"When does your brother get back?"

Chelsea smiled, noticing again the extraordinary colour of his eyes...a sort of smoky yellow, the irises shot through with flecks of gold and black - and watchful, like those of a leopard. "On Wednesday...a short trip only. He's just been appointed a Director to the Company though, so he comes and goes a fair bit."

Cielle spoke up. "He's done such a good job with the flat," she said. "I'd love something like this. Do they come on the market very often?"

Dirk turned his gaze on her, his pupils as black as chips of obsidian. "I thought you liked living at home, Sis."

Her eyes slid guiltily to his face. "I do, Dirk...it's just that - well, I can't live at home for ever."

"Of course you can, Cielle. Whatever would we do without you?" He forced a smile, aware that Chelsea was watching. "Perhaps we can buy a place together when the time comes."

She nodded, her head bobbing like a puppet's. "Yes, yes...I wasn't thinking about anytime soon, Dirk...you know, it's just a thought for the future." Her voice trailed off and she sat in misery, her head down.

Chelsea looked at Cielle. She had noticed the uneasy interplay between her and Dirk when they arrived - almost one of subservience and control. It was not a good relationship, she decided. She glanced again at the girl's belly, rounded with what may have been the first signs of pregnancy, and she wondered who the father was. Cielle hadn't mentioned anyone in her life, and Chelsea hadn't liked to ask, just in case she wasn't pregnant. She shifted her glance to Sarah, sitting alone on the sofa with a book on her lap, her fingers touching the glossy pages and her lips moving soundlessly. She'd not said a word since she arrived, but Chelsea could see from the way that she looked at Cielle with her soft empty eyes that she loved her sister. She seemed happy, but it was clear that she was quite severely disabled.

In a moment of insight Chelsea saw the three figures like actors in a theatre and she found herself being drawn into the play, like an improperly briefed performer who suddenly finds herself on a stage with no time to understand the plot or read the script. She shook her head - this was one weird family, but it was important to get on with them for her father's sake.

She turned to them brightly. "Now, can I get anyone a drink?"

*

It was just after 9 o'clock the next morning when Dirk tried the front door. He'd watched Chelsea drive away and he'd hurried upstairs, unsure if she had a cleaner who might interrupt him. The duplicate key he'd had cut slipped into the deadlock without difficulty, and he heard the click as the mechanism slid back. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, alert for an alarm but finding none. As easy as that, he thought.

The flat was quiet, everything as neat and clean as a new pin. He replaced the spare key on the keyboard in the kitchen and then moved quickly to the bedroom she'd said was hers, his feet silent on the thick carpet. The bed was neatly made, the covers smoothed down so that not a single wrinkle marred the surface. He opened the bedside drawers but there was nothing in them, and he turned to the dressing table under the window, sliding open each drawer carefully. There were a few things inside - some candles in a box, spare pillowcases, an unopened packet of Tampons.

He moved quickly to the ensuite bathroom, noting the shining glass of the shower cubicle and the new bar of soap in the tray. The cabinet above the sink was almost empty - a few bottles of pills, some shampoo, a new tube of toothpaste and some ear wicks. The towels on the towel rack were dry. This is a guest suite, he thought, hardly ever used.

He slipped silently into the other bedroom, keeping clear of the windows that overlooked the street. The bed was made but there was a book on the bedside cabinet, open and face down. He lifted the pillow and pressed it to his face, smelling the faint aroma of her perfume...so, she slept here. The cabinet drawer was filled with her things - some pills, emery boards, a tube of fungal ointment and some contraceptive pills. At the back was a bag made of soft material and he drew it out and opened it, staring down at the vibrators inside.

He crossed to the other cabinet and opened it - a book on cars, a pair of glasses, aspirin. There was a sheaf of papers there too, held together with a clip, and he lifted them out and read the title: 'Proposed Rationalisation of the Marketing Department. A report by Benjamin Rogers, Director Marketing.' There were notes appended across the pages in blue ballpoint, and Dirk noticed the pen in the drawer.

He carefully replaced the material and checked the rest of the room. Her clothes were in the wardrobe hanging alongside of his, and the drawers of the sideboard were filled with her underclothes. He entered the bathroom, noting the damp towel and the wet shower, lifting the lid of the laundry basket. It was half full, her tank top and shorts on the top; he lifted them to find a wispy pair of panties and he carried them through to the bedroom and sat on the bed.

Dirk rested his hand on the pillow, imagining the soft skin of her face and the fragrant curtain of her hair resting against it. He could almost feel the warmth of her body retained in the weave of the fabric. This bed is where both of them sleep, he thought. He pressed her panties to his face and breathed in, his senses suddenly filled with her image - the slim body and the warm ripe lips. He could smell talcum powder and perfume and the faint aroma of her sex, and he imagined how the material in his fingers must have rubbed against her labia as she sat on the sofa in front of him the day before, and how it would have absorbed her essence.

He lifted the thin fabric from his face and turned it, and he pressed the tip of his tongue against the gusset. This is what her brother tastes when he fucks her in this bed he thought. He laughed into the fragrant material, the power of what he had found popping and fizzling in his brain like a narcotic. I have the power to destroy her now, he thought, but first I'll have a little fun.

*

Chelsea Rogers ran to the front door and flung her arms around her brother as he entered the room. He dropped his bag on the floor and hugged her, his face buried in the fragrant cloud of her hair.

"Wow, Chelsea - now that's a welcome!"

She broke free and looked up at him, her teeth very white against the golden lustre of her skin. "It seems ages since you went, Ben." She smiled shyly. "I've made supper, but I thought it might wait a little, if you like."

He laughed. "You must be a mind reader."

"Then come with me." She took his hand and led him through to the bedroom. The bed was turned down and a bottle of champagne and two glasses stood beside it. The room was lit by dozens of candles, and she had scattered rose petals over the sheets, crimson against the white linen.

He stopped at the door in surprise. "Chelsea, this is beautiful."

She held his arm, her face turned towards his. "You've no idea how much I missed you, Ben," she said, shyly.

He smiled. "I guess about as much as I missed you." He could see her eyes, soft with love, the pupils dilated and the irises a soft milky grey like the inside of a dove's wing. Her lips were open, inviting, and he bent down and kissed them, feeling her body arch in response and her arms slipping up around his neck. He grasped the hard little globes of her buttocks and lifted her, feeling her legs close around his hips and the press of her hair against his cheek as the angle of her face shifted. He could feel her breasts, too, pressing against his shirt, and he imagined the nipples rising against him, like little red cherries. Her tongue was slithering into his mouth, dancing against his, and he could taste the sweetness of her as he carried her to the bed.

In the air conditioning vent above the dressing table the camera that Dirk had put it there the day before peered down into the room. As Ben carried his sister to the bed it awoke, its lens adjusting to the light and the movement, and the images it captured flowed to its little silicon drive. It watched as Ben undressed his sister, his fingers busy on the buttons and zips, sliding each article of clothing off her body until she lay on the bed naked, staring up at him with hungry eyes. It saw him fling off his own clothes to stand before her, his phallus rearing up from his loins, the head fully exposed and glistening with his juice; and it heard her soft cry of desire as she crouched before him, her hands on his thighs as she took him into her mouth.

Ben could see her eyes on his, clear and steady, watching his expression as he slid in and out of her mouth. Her hair swung back and forth in a shining curtain and her breasts swayed slightly, the nipples as hard as granite pebbles. He could see how she changed the angle and pressure of her mouth as he fucked her, tilting her head back slightly to better accommodate the glans against the back of her throat, then gripping down slightly as he withdrew, her mouth forming a tight ring around the shaft as if her lips were trying to draw him back in. He placed his hands on her head and closed his eyes, savouring the delicious sensation of her tongue flicking against him, envisaging the soft press of her flesh against the bell-end. He thought about coming into her this way, picturing how his seed would gush into her mouth and how she would slacken her lips to allow it to dribble and ooze around his shaft to drip over her chin as she looked up at him.

Chelsea must have read it in his face. She withdrew his cock from her lips and smiled up at him. "No, Ben. Not this time. I need you inside me." She reclined on the mattress and opened her legs in invitation. "Come and fuck me, Ben."

He gripped her calves and rolled them upwards, rotating her hips so that she was almost folded double, her thighs parallel with the warm, pliant flesh of her body. Her sex was pushed upwards, opening like a piece of luscious fruit, the lips drawn back and the thick cream of her nectar shining in the soft light, and below it the tight crinkled portal of her anus. A few of the rose petals had stuck to her thighs, blood red against the golden lustre of her skin, and he brushed them away with his fingertips, acknowledging the warm plasticity of her flesh. He was as swollen as he had ever been, his cock rearing up thick and red and angry, and it bobbed as he climbed over her, like a hungry snake seeking its prey.

Ben engaged the head of his cock against her vulva and watched as he thrust down into the slim form of his sister below him. Her labia were nudged aside, and the glans displaced the juices gathered at the mouth of her pussy as it dipped into her body. He could see her cream transferred to his shaft as he slid into her, clinging to the turgid flesh as warm and thick as molten honey. The prolificacy of her cunt was something that always turned him on: he knew that within a few minutes her juices would completely coat his cock and his balls, creaming to a light froth with the friction of their flesh and trickling down over her anus to stain the sheets. Despite her wetness he could feel the tightness of her channel, his prick levering aside the walls of her vagina as it burrowed deeper, reaching into the warmth of her belly.

She was gasping underneath him, her hands gripping her thighs to hold them open. She could not move much in this position - all she could do was lie there and be impaled, helpless underneath him. She could feel the relentless slide of his rod, pressing open the soft, wet flesh of her insides, and she could feel the elastic stretch of her vulva as it struggled to accommodate him. The penetration seemed to go on forever, sliding deeper and deeper into her body, until at last she felt the press of his thighs against her buttocks as he bottomed out.

"Jesus, Ben," she whispered. "Wait...wait. Christ, you've got bigger!"

He groaned in bliss, reveling in the tight velvet grip of her vagina and the heat of her body. "No, Sis, you've got tighter."

For a long moment they were still, his full length was embedded inside her, the great purple head lodged against her cervix and his balls pressed hard against her anus. She was impaled by his shaft, transfixed by its length and girth. Her eyes were on his face, heavy-lidded with lust as she savoured her subjugation, and her hands fluttered like little sparrows against the hard muscles of his back.

And then he began a slow withdrawal, feeling the long slide of his flesh exiting from the warmth of her body, and the clinging suck of her vulva as it gripped him. He watched as his shaft appeared, slick with her juices, glistening in the soft golden light until only the very tip was held within her. For a moment he balanced there and then he felt her hands drawing him down, a mute plea to fill her again, and he complied.

The sound of their lovemaking filled the room: the groans and grunts of their pleasure, the rhythmic squeaking of the bed and the soft, sucking noise of their bodies joining and parting. Her ankles were up by her ears now, her body bent into a "U", and he was plunging downwards with each thrust, her body bouncing underneath him. Her vulva was soaking, sopping wet, rimmed with froth where he penetrated her. He varied the angle of his cock as he fucked her, rotating his hips so his rod pounded every corner of her cunt. He watched her face, the sheen of sweat on her brow, and the gleam of her teeth behind her open, pouting lips. She was turning her head from side to side, the prelude to her first orgasm, her muscles tensing as the spiral of her pleasure swept her upwards. She reached forward and grasped her brother's hips, directing his thrusts, spurring him on so that he fucked her deeper and harder as she reached for her climax, and her voice was gusty and disjointed.

"Fuck me, Ben, fuck your baby sister. Feel me around you....feel my tight cunt."

His own voice was strained as he laboured above her. "Fuck, Chelsea!! Fuck that's good! I love your tight cunt around me - sucking me in -"

"Christ, Ben....I'm cumming....its here, Ben....Fuck, its here - so hot -"

The camera recorded the thin, high wail of her ecstasy as she came, and it watched her hands fluttering on his back. It saw the muscles of Ben's back and legs tighten as he reached his own orgasm, his hips thrusting forward to bury his shaft deep into his sister, and it heard his primeval grunts as he unleashed jets of sperm deep into her body. It saw his balls pulsing, pumping their contents into the wriggling girl beneath him, and it observed how her cunt milked him, grasping at his shaft like a hungry mouth to draw out his seed.

At length Ben rolled off and lay on his back beside her. Chelsea cuddled up next to him, her lips close to his ear.

"Did anyone ever tell you you're a great fuck, Mr. Rogers?" she whispered.

"All the time."

She laughed. "What about girls? What do they say?"

"Who said anything about girls?"

"Ah, silly of me," she said. "I just assumed -"

"- that I like girls?" He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Just an observation." She smiled at him, her grey eyes sparkling. "It seems to me that whenever you see tits or pussy, you get horny...isn't that right?"

Ben looked at her lying next to him, the candlelight soft on her skin. Her hair was like a golden curtain on the pillow, and her lips were slightly open, her little white teeth gleaming behind them. He reached up and touched her mouth gently with his fingertips, watching as she dabbed at them with the tip of her little pink tongue before moving her head upwards to suck his forefinger into her mouth. It sank in like a miniature prick entering her body, into her warmth and wetness, and he felt his cock twitch in response. "Only your tits and pussy, Chelsea," he said.

She released his finger. "Oh, so I'm the only woman you'd fuck - is that right?"

He smiled. "Absolutely."

"Tell me why."

"Do you have seven or eight hours to spare?"

She laughed. "Tell me why. Tell me three things."

He sat up, still looking down at her. "Three things? How about this, and this, and....this?" He touched each nipple, and brushed his finger across her vulva to illustrate his point.

"No, no. Tell me why you'll only fuck me."

"Oh, right." He thought about it. "Um, well, there's....um....er....um"

Chelsea laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. "You beast! Tell me!"

Ben looked down at her again, and his expression softened. "Because I love you. Because you are beautiful, and because you are a truly magnificent fuck." He smiled. "Not necessarily in that order, of course."

"What about being your sister? Does that count for anything?"

He nodded. "I didn't realise until I almost lost you, Chelsea, but you're right. It's funny, isn't it - I worried about not being able to live with you because you are my sister, but it adds a whole new dimension to our love life."

"In what way?" She persisted.

"Because it's totally wrong," Ben said. "Because brothers and sisters are just not supposed to be so intimate with each other...they're supposed to squabble and gripe." He gazed down at her. "When I entered your body that first time it felt like the whole world had tilted over," he said, "and it still does." He reached down and placed his hand over her pussy, feeling the heat of her body radiating from the opening like a little oven. "That's my sperm in there...deep inside you, Chelsea...and that just blows my mind away. Can you imagine? Your eggs and my sperm, mixed together deep inside you, each carrying the same blueprint." He smiled. "Every part of you is already half of me, Chelsea, and I love it....I love you for it." He was silent for a while, thinking, and then he spoke again. "And I love the feeling I get when we meet people, too...their assumption that we are just a brother and sister out together - never realising what we do to each other every day."