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Sinful Siblings

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Jeanette Voerman was a tramp. A filthy little slut. A no good, shameless, depraved whore.

And probably proud of it, too, knowing how much it annoys me, Therese thought to herself with an angry huff. Her and her sister had been fighting, again, and Jeanette had just stormed off, running away to do... Therese didn't even want to know what.

She shook her head in resignation. She really was just trying to look out for her. The little skank had saw fit to bring no less than three guys back to her room, and then proceeded to fuck them loudly from sunrise to sunset. Hardly the thing Therese needed to listen to while trying to have a good night's sleep. She'd ended up without even a good second of sleep, in fact, and had unkindly pointed that out to her sister, instigating their latest tiff.

They had a club to run, Therese had pointed out. That required at least a small amount of respectability and decorum on their part. The Voerman name was supposed to mean something! Jeanette's insistence on being a complete whore didn't always help things, Therese had explained. Jeanette had flipped out at the remark. As always. Jeanette never could accept constructive criticism. Slut. Therese shook her head again, sighing.

Jeanette was gone now though, probably off to find four guys to fuck just to prove she could be as promiscuous as she wanted. Just as well, Therese finally had enough peace and quiet to think. Maybe even rest. A nap might be nice, and would hopefully clear her mind of the loud, whorish moans that had kept her up all night.

Slowly stripping off her clothes, Therese left just her panties on as she sank into her soft bed, satin sheets and silk underwear both feeling amazing against her skin. Delicate and refined, it was the complete opposite of her sister. Therese felt herself finally relaxing, decency finally able to take hold now that her sister had left. Jeanette was not delicate, Jeanette was not refined. She was...

Sin. Pure, distilled sin. Her outfit alone was disgusting. Her top was fashioned to present her breasts, not to clothe them. And her skirt was so short and flimsy! She flashed her panties far too often, and Therese was sure it was entirely on purpose. Jeanette's skirts never hid anything. Slut.

Therese couldn't help herself from imagining her sister in vivid detail, picturing clearly all the things about her sibling that she so despised. Her stupid, over-dramatic makeup, and juvenile pigtails. Her dumb little pout, the way her glossy lips shone in the club's dingy lighting. Her slutty little panties (they were white today, she knew). The way her obscene cleavage bounced and jiggled whenever she couldn't stand still (which was always).

Therese groaned in frustration. She wanted to go to sleep, not vividly picture all the different ways Jeanette was a total slut. But it wasn't the darkness of sleep that greeted her when she shut her eyes, it was her sister's jiggling cleavage. An unwelcome obscenity, Therese would've recoiled from the sheer wickedness of it even had they not been related by blood. Unfortunately, recoiling from a mental image accomplished little, and less in the case of Jeanette, who's taunting words she could almost hear aloud as she imagined them. Jeanette's annoying voice echoed in her mind, telling her how wrong it was to stare, that they were sisters, even as she arched her back and thrust her tits forwards for her sibling.

Therese was revolted. Why did Jeanette always invade her mind at the most inopportune of times? Incestuous slut.

She bit back a groan, a tingle going through her body just at the thought of the word "incest". Fuck, incest was so wrong. So depraved. Fornicating with your own family members, your own blood, surely that had to be the height of debauchery. She shuddered at the thought, unable to imagine anything more sinful.

Her hand was down between her legs before she could think to stop it, fingers gently rubbing her smooth mound and delicate lips through her panties. The mental picture of her sibling didn't go away, even as she began to masturbate. Instead Jeanette began striking poses for her, nothing too obnoxious at first, but as Therese's fingers continued to pet at her slit, Jeanette's behavior grew more obscene. She imagined the slutty schoolgirl taking her shirt off, the insubstantial bit of fabric falling from her svelte shoulders and to the ground with little more than a gentle tug on the front knot that had been holding it together. Now there was no more than a lacy red bra standing between Jeanette and total indecency, and Therese couldn't look away. Her eyes were exposed to more of the creamy, forbidden flesh, and Therese was suddenly overcome by the perverse wickedness of it all, growing panicked and dizzy.

She had to stop thinking of her sister! She had to imagine something else, picture someone else. But she couldn't. Jeanette just wouldn't leave her mind. She tried imagining different fantasies, but her sister was the solo star of every single one, no matter how naughty or indecent. In fact, the hornier she grew, the harder it was to think of anything besides Jeanette, each unwanted fantasy somehow more incestuous than the last, and each one hotter for it. It was pure and utter filth, and it had Therese cumming hard in her panties, her mind devoid of anything but her sister's perfect, perfect breasts. What they'd look like free of their meager coverings, naked and exposed and bouncing. So obscene. So indecent. The slutty moans Jeanette would make, arching her back and wrapping her arms around Therese's head and pulling her forward, smothering her sister's face with her tits.

She imagined how soft the skin would feel against her face, silk on silk. She moaned, thumb now rubbing at her clit as her fingers prodded her entrance. She pictured Jeanette's nipples, with their lewd piercings, hard not from the cold but from sexual arousal. Sexual arousal that her sister felt for her. And Jeanette wouldn't remain silent about that, either. No, she'd spell it all out for Therese, telling her exactly how wrong it was, how incestuous, in that mocking way of hers. Taunting her. Tempting her. Teasing her to not enjoy it when they both knew Therese had no choice. All comments she wanted to deny but couldn't, muffled moans of lust the only sound she'd be able to make into her faceful of cleavage.

Once her orgasm had began to subside, the filthy fantasy finally came to and end as well. Therese shuddered in disgust at what she'd just done, what she'd just gotten herself off to.

Still, even as the fantasy ended, Jeanette remained, seductive as ever. Topless as ever, too, and Therese continued to masturbate to the image. Her sister smirked, reaching her hands under her skirt. Hooking the waistband with her thumbs, she took her panties off, sliding them down her pale legs before stepping out of them. Her smirk turned wicked, and her hands went to the hem of her skirt, and Therese knew she had to look away. Jeanette was not going to stop, she had be the one to stop. Therese needed to be the mature, responsible one. As always.

Her sister was exposing herself, and she had to look away, had to do something to stop it. Anything at all.

Nothing came to mind.

Jeanette's skirt kept rising, her thighs sickly pale and totally exposed. But it was taking too long. Jeanette was teasing her. Slowly. Way too slowly. Figures. Her sister never had the patience to do anything slowly, not in their whole lives, but driving her mad with perverse lust? Yeah, that she'd do nice and slow. Depraved slut.

The hemline of the tartan fabric finally pulled above her slit, and Therese groaned as Jeanette bared her... pussy. Therese despised the word "pussy", almost as much as she despised Jeanette herself. Vulgar language of the sort just felt unclean in her mouth. But what better words to use in description of her dear sister? Words that made her feel dirty before she'd even spoken them, yes, those were the words best used on Jeanette. Bouncing tits and horny pussies and nasty little cunts, repulsive words for a repulsive slut.

And still Therese didn't look away, instead drinking in the mental picture of Jeanette's nasty little cunt. Even now, her most secret and private flesh, Therese could picture perfectly. The tight little slit, the puffy mound, the flawless smoothness of her skin. She could see it all with such vivid intimacy, knew her twin sister's perfect body even better than a lover could.

Jeanette spread her legs, displaying her one true talent, Therese thought with a snarl. She didn't look away though, didn't so much as blink at the sticky, inviting, and utterly forbidden flesh her sister was happily displaying for her.

"Guess you'll never find out if I'm a natural blonde," her fantasy sibling giggled at her, making sure to keep her skirt held up so that absolutely every bit of her was revealed to Therese's inquiring eyes.

Of course a dirty whore like Jeanette would... "Groom herself so sinfully" were the initial words she chose, but they weren't quite descriptive enough. "Shave her pussy bald" was probably what the slut would call it. It made her look like a base little skank in Therese's opinion.

She continued to masturbate, picturing nothing else.

A dildo somehow found its way into Jeanette's hand, an obscene pink phallus, and a moment later she was sliding it into her pussy, accompanied by some embarrassing moans.

Therese groaned at the depravity of her sister, her own fingers sliding in between her wet lips, pressing the silk into her flesh. Jeanette had so many nasty toys, it was perplexing. An entire drawer full. A drawer that was less than two feet from her head, at that moment, a realization that really got her thoughts going after an initial pause of consideration.

She didn't want to do this. Really, she didn't. She just didn't seem to have it in herself to stop either, sitting up and opening the drawer and withdrawing the pink phallus that she'd been picturing Jeanette using.

It was gross. Disgusting. Unclean. She moaned, and brought it to her lips, sliding it into her mouth. There was a noticeable flavor on the toy, something musky and dirty, very far from the artificial flavor you'd expect a hunk of plastic, or whatever the hell it was, to be made of. It suddenly occurred to Therese that her sister was so filthy that she probably didn't even wash her sex toys, and the thought was just perverse enough to send her over the edge.

Her mouth watered, hungry for more of the depraved flavor, and her tongue eagerly obliged, smearing the length of the toy with saliva before noisily slurping it up. Too much drool had pooled in her mouth and it began to dribble down her chin, but she didn't swallow it, instead enjoying the perverse taste of the dried-on fuckjuice that had dissolved into her spit. Even as she came down from her orgasm and her libido ebbed away, she couldn't resist licking at the plastic cock, her tongue desperately searching for more of her sister's filth to savor.

Her slut sister tasted so dirty, she just couldn't get enough. Removing the now too clean sex toy from her mouth, she dropped it on the floor without thought as she scrambled to again pull open the bedside drawer, reaching in and grabbing for the first toy her hand could grasp. It was similar to the first one, slightly bigger, and it tasted a bit stronger too. Fuck, how could Jeanette be so dirty, so vile? Filthy, filthy slut.

How many times had Jeanette buried the nasty toy in her depraved little twat? Therese came again as she imagined the answer, the kinky depravity of it all getting her off so much better than the physical feeling of her fingers on her vagina ever could. The fire of physical arousal was but a candle to her anymore. The dark, sinful desire Jeanette stirred in her, that was a heat that burnt away all sense of shame, of decency and decorum, consuming everything and leaving behind only lust and desire.

As if to prove it, Therese continued sucking the dirty sex toy, and masturbating, imagining how slick her slut sister would get from defiling her little pussy with the thing. And even more arousing were the gooey squishing sounds it would make as she had a nice, wet orgasm all over it. She imagined her sister's vaginal walls wetly gripping the thick shaft, just as her lips and tongue were at that moment, and she came again, drowning herself in the intoxicating flavor of stale sex.

As she came down from her high of orgasmic bliss, Therese started growing angry. Her slut of a sister had probably planned this, manipulated it somehow. Jeanette had a way of doing that, of getting her into situations that she had no business being in. She threw the toy across the room, disgusted with it, hating how she'd been tricked into enjoying it. Jeanette always found a way to deceive her. It was maddening.

Clearly she'd been coerced into what she'd just done, enticed into doing something Therese Voerman would never, ever, in a million years consider doing. Sighing, she fell back against the bed, head resting on her soft pillow.

She was tired, but her eyes didn't close, afraid of what they might see. She scanned the room instead, stopping with revulsion on one particular item. She couldn't help but notice her sister's panties on the floor. Dirty, of course, worn all day. Filthy as Jeanette was, she tended to discard things without putting them in their proper place. Underwear especially. Jeanette probably left her dirty panties out in the open just to tempt her, shameless little slut that she was. That sounded like something she'd do. Wear her panties all day, probably fuck in them even. And then put them right in the middle of the bedroom, somewhere Therese was sure to notice, seducing her sweet sister with nothing but utter depravity.

Yes, it was most certainly Jeanette's fault, Therese decided as she crawled out of bed and bent down to grab the offending pair of panties, lifting them to her face and wrinkling her nose at the heavy smell of stale sex. All her sister's fault, she thought as she laid back on her bed, one hand going down between her legs as the other pressed Jeanette's panties into her face. Damn Jeanette, she couldn't help but think as she inhaled the sickening scent.

Her damned sister. The one thing she wanted, desired, lusted for above all else, and yet the one thing she couldn't have. How could Therese not hate the slutty little tramp? She was a constant, ever-present reminder that her deepest cravings and darkest desires were destined to go unfulfilled. Seeing her prance around in that disgustingly slutty outfit, giving it up to everyone else in the world, everyone but the person who deserved it most, desired it most...

No, that wasn't right. She didn't want her twin! How could she ever want anything so sinfully indecent? Just because every aspect of her appearance screamed desire, and lust, that didn't mean anything. It was Jeanette's fault. You couldn't look at her, you couldn't even picture her without impure thoughts running through the mind. And that was no accident. She was a corrupting presence, spreading her filth like a disease. It was Jeanette's fault that Therese couldn't help but think of the filthiest things whenever she pictured her face. It was Jeanette's fault that she had so many restless nights full of sinful of dreams. It was Jeanette's fault that Therese could only get wet to the thought of her own filthy sister.

Quite wet, at that. Her arousal was soaking through her panties and smearing on her fingers as she slowly rubbed at her slit, a pair of fingers tracing their way up and down, over the fabric, petting the overly sensitive skin with expensive, wet silk. God, it was wrong. Sickeningly wrong. But Therese knew better. She'd spent the better part of a lifetime trying to fight it. Trying to resist thinking of her twin sister when she got turned on, and started touching herself. But it never worked, Jeanette always won. She just couldn't seem to resist... the filth, the sin, the sheer depravity of submitting to her disgusting slut of a sibling, it was all just too alluring. Therese gave in every single time.

It was as though part of Jeanette's diseased mind had infected her, and she just couldn't seem to get rid of it. Couldn't fight it. Couldn't do anything but moan various obscenities about how shameless Jeanette was, most of them right into the whore's underwear as she rubbed it about her face, smothering herself with her sister's rank, unclean scent.

Her pussy seemed as delighted as her mind was sickened by this depravity, the silk covering her slit now wet and slick, totally soaked through. Yet she was touching herself less than ever, just gently petting at her clit now, getting herself off all but entirely to Jeanette's filth, the feeling of fingers on her clit barely even registering in her depravity-suffused mind.

Jeanette had masturbated herself in these panties, she suddenly knew, and she imagined it was the slut's unclean twat rubbing and smearing all over her face, not just her dirty panties, making a sticky, slimy mess of Therese's pretty, refined features. That seemed like something an incestuous slut like Jeanette would do. Therese came again.

Anger once again rose as her libido ebbed. Jeanette always acted so innocent, so victimized. How could Therese not hate her? How could she not constantly fight? If she didn't react with anger, how could she possibly resist Jeanette's depraved sin?

But in the end even that wasn't enough. She couldn't resist it, no matter how hard she tried. As evidenced by her faceful of her dear sister's dirty panties. Filthy, incestuous slut. Therese wasn't even sure if she was referring to Jeanette or herself anymore. She inhaled again, deeply, moaning at the musty, stale scent. God, what a mess the whore's nasty cunt had made. What a perfect mess. Therese came again, another surprisingly wet orgasm brought on by sheer debauchery.

And still it wasn't filthy enough. Nothing ever was when it came to Jeanette. No act was too low, no deed too sinful. Her sister's depravity was limitless, infinite, unable to be exhausted no matter how hard Therese tried, no matter how desperate her search for a new low to sink to.

That didn't stop her trying, though. It didn't stop her tongue darting out between her lips to taste the soiled fabric of her sister's panties. It didn't stop the whorish moan as she eagerly stuffed the nasty tasting knickers into her mouth. It didn't stop her from ensuring the soiled crotch was pressed right against her watering tongue, moaning even louder into her makeshift panty-gag. And it didn't stop Therese from squirting into her own panties, gush after gush, eventually soaking the bedsheets below her.

Finally she'd hit her peak, the true climax of her mounting perversions. Her back arched sharply, her own breasts bouncing just as she'd imagined her twin's, hips grinding, all the depraved pleasure she'd been building up pouring out of her in an intense, drawn-out orgasm. She'd barely even been touching her clit, and now her pussy was spasming madly, an endless string of vile obscenities leaving her lips as she came and came.

There was a sick satisfaction in it. No one else in the world could even get her wet, and yet she couldn't stop squirting for Jeanette. Couldn't stop squirting for her own sister. The filthy exhilaration only made her cum harder, her panties long since soaked with her squirt and yet still being flooded with the perverse fluid.

Her bedsheets squished wetly as she continued to buck her hips, unintentionally and instinctually grinding her ass downwards. Her lower back was wet, and her thighs soaked, and she was mewling her sister's name by the time the gushing finally stopped.

Coming down from the most intense orgasm she'd had in a while, she finally felt her lust receding. And her consciousness was following, a mixture of satiation and exhaustion finally driving her to that nap she'd wanted. Her last through before passing out was that she didn't ever want to cum for anyone else if it felt this good to do it for Jeanette.

Jeanette woke up with a muffled groan, moaning her surprise into her own panties. Why were they in her mouth? She remembered leaving them for Therese to find. A naughty little game, one Jeanette knew Therese loved, deep down, even if she had too much dignity and decency to admit it.

The room smelled of sex, and the bedsheets felt stained of it. Therese had tried to use perfumes and scented candles to hide the carnal musk that permeated their loft, but Jeanette had quickly put an end to that. Therese hadn't been happy when Jeanette had threatened to accidentally knock the candles over and burn the place down, but fighting Jeanette's crazier tenancies had always been a losing endeavor, so the scents and perfumes had been discarded and the room stank of sex evermore. Jeanette moaned again, happily this time, feeling satisfied and satiated, though she wasn't sure why.

Finally taking the (rather tasty, she thought smugly) panties out of her mouth, she smiled happily, her demented mind already working to invent even filthier games to play with her dearest sister. Therese always took care of her, after all, and Jeanette felt compelled to return the favor.

Her hand found its way between her legs, and she cooed in delight to find that the crotch of the white silk panties she was wearing already felt plenty dirty. She purred to herself, hand sliding down the front of the underwear. They were going to be SO messy by the time she got them back to Therese, she thought with a loud moan, her fingers already getting to work.


The End