She calls it a late evening matinee. Those words escape from her lips like an encaged demon. Its ruffled feathers shedding its residue onto the surface. Its voice hawking like someone is congested in its throat. That is the description I think of whenever she uses those words for preparation of our act. An act where we shed the clothing of two siblings. Red strings are born and entwined between our callous fingers. Lucy is not who she is whenever we engage in our act.
She compares herself to the omnipotent. A name above all names. When I am with her, she shall be exalted. She is considered worthy over anything else. Our parents, our sisters, our friends, and me.
Once, she had called an insolent creature. So insignificant that a cockroach has higher value than I. I took the blow. I encaged it, concealed it in a jar, and stored it in the depths of my soul. I never respond with hatred. I never provoke my anger. For her anger is greater than the Lord himself. I am just a child of a lesser God.
A contradiction, I know. A contradiction, I know. A contradiction, I know. A broken record I am becoming. Accustomed to the abuse that Lucy gives me. Have you ever read the book Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul? It is an anthology of people who faced unforeseen circumstances. However, against all odds, they pull through.
Lucy caught me reading the book one evening when I was lying in bed. She appeared out of nowhere. Her eyes widened like a broken relic, displaying any power that was concealed. Her face reddened like the blood I tasted after she hit me with the book. She didn't stop. She beat me repeatedly until the font of the title was indented onto my forehead.
Throughout the time I was covering myself, she was laughing. She burrowed and furrowed in laughter. Each hit was a different aura, a different vibe, each had a reason. In her eyes, she was punishing me for something she hates the most. And that was when a person builds themselves.
No one is above Lucy. Her foundation is built on sand. But she will be damned if you even try to add one particle board under yours.
After she finished hitting me; and the confetti of papers scattered throughout the room; and once her panting cease, she leaned over me with her familiar smile. She swayed her hair to expose her catlike eyes. She purred. She was tickled to see my suffering. She placed a kiss on my forehead. She whispered in my ear good night before taking a tug with her teeth. She cascaded to the door before closing it.
What was left in the aftermath was my destroyed book, my bruised body, my bruised ego, and a soiled pair of boxers.
My mother asked me how I was inflicted with those bruises. Lucy smiled when I have explained that I was too caught up in listening to SMOOCH.
That alone caused me to be grounded for a month and I have to go to counseling.
So, my lie to protect her caused me disdain for some time.
You ask yourself, why didn't I go tell someone.
The door opens. I can't talk right now. The demon has entered the room.
She gently closes the door behind her. She tries her best to not disturb any of our family downstairs. Bedtime is drawing near and my family is downstairs playing a game.
Per routine, she gave them an excuse.
She is not feeling well. Being out in the cold too long gave her symptoms of the flu. She is going upstairs. She also reminds them that she does not need any help for her big brother is going to take care of it.
I swallow nothing.
No, I am lying. Longsuffering has another mean with me and her. She locks the door and turns out one of the lights.
The demon is approaching.
"Charmed, big brother for waiting for me this fine evening," she purrs.
I sit on my bed, riveting in frustration. Riveting in knowing what is about to come.
"What's the face, big brother," she asks with a gentle voice. She walks closer to me.
I lean backward toward to wall. I know that I have nowhere to go. I am cornered, but any borrowed time is time. Time is regardless. Time is time. Time is slipping and the inevitable is coming.
"I love it when you expose your fear to me," she purrs. She nudges on the bed, aiming in my direction. "It speaks wonders on how you look at me." She licks her lips.
I don't say a word.
"What's the matter," she asks me again. We are face to face with each other. Her hair smells of a bubblegum shampoo. A huge contrast to her truer self.
Her palm touches my face.
"Oh my God," she exclaims with insincerity. She strokes my cheek with a caress. "You are scared."
"No," I lie to her.
"Words are a chasm to nowhere. Just a maze after maze of pyramids and traps. But hell, what do I know? Then yet again, you are in my world." She tells me. She blows into my ear.
I am shaking.
"Continue to fear me for I am your God," she says. She begins biting on my ear. "I am the Lord of host." She tugs at my earlobe. The moistness of her tongue hits me. I began to pant a little.
"In the beginning," she tells me. "I bestow upon Lincoln the gift he is about to receive." I can smell her as she wraps herself around me. She inhales loudly, assuring me who is in charge.
"Lucy," I tell her.
She grabs my throat with a firm grip. "Keep saying my name, but with a whisper." She took another bite of my ear. Meanwhile, she grabs her hand and reaches into my shirt. She begins playing with my nipple.
"I know you are perky here, Lincoln," she says. "I know your spots."
She rubs it and kneads it like it is bread. I am moaning but keeping my composure. My family is only feet away and don't know that trouble is upstairs clawing her other hand around my stomach.
"I use you because you are an insolent weak thing," she tells me, "Even cockroaches and mice have a better stead than you."
"Yes, ma'am," I tell her.
She moves her mouth to my chest where she licks through my shirt. Instantly, I become hard. I feel like an asshole. An incestous bastard. Just nothing.
She looks around my swollen member and smiles. She rubs it gently against my pants.
"You love when I fondle your dick, don't you," she tells me.
I say nothing until she pinches my phallus, which causes me to yelp.
"You can play quiet but I know your notes, big brother," she says.
She continues stroking my dick. My precum is leaking through my pants. She gathers any materials and puts in my mouth.
"Love your salty taste," she questions me.
When I don't answer, she tugs hard. "Answer my question," she demands.
"Yes," I say. I don't know what is true or not. She continues stroking my pants until I know I am beginning to erupt.
Here I am, lying in the bedroom and allowing my sister to do these things to me.
"Tell me that I am your God," she demands.
"You are my God," I sadly admit.
"Who is the queen of queens," she says while stroking faster.
"You are," I say.
"Let it out in your pants, you pervert," she says. And she leans closer. "You better cream your pants or I am going to cream you. Understand?"
I shake my head.
"Let out your sloppy squid," she said excitedly before she gives the final push of my orgasm.
She screams while I yell out.
"I am cumming."
I unload my clip into my pants, as directed. I come repeatedly until it subsides. I am red in the face. She smiles.
"You are pathetic," she says. "Allowing your little sister to do something like that."
I say nothing. However, there is void within me. As much I am embarrassed. This sinking feeling. This sinking feeling.
She wipes her hands on my bed. She stands before with the same look from before. She takes off part of her dress. The creamy complexion of her shoulders goes well in the moonlight.
"Is this what you want," she questions me. "Do you want to get a taste of this forbidden fruit."
I say nothing.
"Oh, c'mon, big brother," she tells me. "You are not telling me that you are not dying to pop this tight pussy. You don't want to play with this kitten. She is drooling for you." She giggles.
I still say nothing.
"Your son is being honest," she tells me.
She spreads her legs, exposing her panties. They are black. Similar to how I am feeling on the inside. Her musk is enticing. Enchanting and scream my name to attack.
She thrusts while using her hand as if she is jerking off.
"Aww, poor Lincoln. Don't you want to pop one off in your sister," she teases me.
I am frozen. She continues.
"In my goody-bag. In my cock-dock. In my yum-yum. In my coin purse. In my bun. In my taco," she continues teasing me. "Don't you see my panties covered in my fluid? I know you want this."
"Keep lying to yourself, Lincoln. Be in denial."
"Fuck me, Lincoln," she tells me while thrusting on the bed.
What are you waiting for, you idiot? She is literally giving you an open invitation. Take this kitty, bitch.
"What are waiting for, Lincoln. Isn't this what you want?"
That familiar voice. From beside the bed, I see Lori standing. She folds her arms. She has a suspicious look.
"What's the matter, Lincoln," she asks me. "Afraid to conquer your sister?"
By that time, Lucy begins rubbing herself with her soft fingers. I watch as she glides her fingers through her cavern. Her fingers are hungry for her pussy. Her eyes display an insatiable appetite.
She moans. She continues to play with herself while Lori laughs and watch. By this time, she crawls into bed.
"Poor, Lucy," she says. "Lincoln isn't doing his job. Care if I help?"
She shakes her head. She comes from behind Lucy and begins rubbing her nipples with both of her hands. Lucy clenches her teeth and tucks her lip as she caught in the pleasure of her sister's touch.
"Does it feel good when I flick your tits," questions Lori to Lucy.
"Mmm, mmm," Lucy exclaims.
Lori wraps her lips around Lucy. With her teeth, she pulls Lucy's tongue into hers. She slides her mouth up and down Lucy's tongue before biting it again to return it to her mouth.
I stand in wonder as I watch my sisters performing this sinful act. Lori puts her hands in Lucy's skirt. Lucy moans deeper as she uses her one hand to play with her pussy. Her other hand is on Lucy's breast. She continues to tug her areolas. She is wincing, only exciting Lori.
"More," Lucy yearns. "I want more of your touch, Lori. I want your tender touch. Fuck me, big sis."
"Con gusto, little sis," she says when she bites in her ear.
On contact, Lucy begins shivering through an orgasm. She tugs on to Lori until her orgasms subside. I stand in wonder. Confused, but allured.
Lori takes off Lucy's panties, exposing her flood gates. She spreads it wide enough to see her pussy throbbing in excitement.
"I have done the prep work for you," Lori tells me. "Go for it, little bro."
"Do it," Lucy tells me. "Fuck your God and tell me who is the queen of queens."
"You heard her," says Lori. "Fuck your God. She commands you."
Want do you want? An engraved invitation? Fuck her, dude. She is hot to trot.
As much I see her yearning for me, as much I see them calling me.
Quit being a fucking pussy, you fag. The hell is wrong with you.
"No, no," I say.
Fuck your little sister, Lincoln.
"Your true self is being honest, Lincoln," says Lori as she leans over to me. She grips my dick.
Do it, Lincoln.
"Do it, Lincoln," says Lori.
"Do it, big brother," says Lucy.
"No," I scream.
When I come to, I am not in my bedroom. Lucy and Lori are not here. I just remember. I am still in the public restroom at the park.
My shame, regret, and frustration are all over the toilet seat.
I pray to my God for forgiveness before exiting the restroom.
The urges are getting stronger. I should have been home, but instead, I have found myself in the restroom extinguishing my thoughts over Lucy while included Lori.
You are more of a basket case than I have thought. What is next? The inclusion of sex with a male?
"Fuck you," I say.
The more you play yourself, the more I like you, Lincoln. You are a card to play. If I can gamble you, I will earn millions.
"Why don't you leave me the hell alone?"
How can I? When I am you. All of these fantasies are you. I mean you were getting off to the thought of Lucy abusing you.
Then, she belittles you. She insults you. You like the fact of being dominated. Hell, I am you and you constantly battle with your mind.
"Leave me alone."
Lesbians of your sisters. Once again, you are a card.
"I don't have to take this."
Don't have much of a choice. I mean you have to face Lori tonight. Kind yummy, if you ask me. What kind of plans has she in store for you?
He is not responding. Pity to be honest. He knows that I am apart of him and still wants to play that game. That is fine because of the best, or worst, has yet to come. Accept it. You can't hide what's inside.
I don't want to listen anymore. I wash my hands. Take it how you want to.
You can't hide what's inside.
You can't hide what's inside.
You can't hide what's inside.
You can't hide what's inside.