Pull Zipper in Case of Emergency by Mystic47

Rating: 93%, Read 99509 times, Posted Sep 18, 2019

Fiction | Female, Incest, Male

I came into my flat and found my sister sitting at my computer desk with headphones on, a drink glass in hand and a bottle of Jim Beam on the floor next to her left leg. She looked downcast, sad, and half drunk. “Hey Irene, what’s up?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, took the headphones off then said, “Hi Brett, I needed someplace to go.”

“Huh, why, what’s going on?”

“He cheated on me, he fucked Marsha.”

“Who, your boyfriend cheated on you?”

Irene splashed another shot in her glass, tipped it up and sucked it down in one swallow, “Yeah, the bitch lied about me, she said I was screwing Matt, but I’m not, she lied and Justin screwed her for revenge on me.” I grabbed another glass from the liquor cabinet and handed it to my sister, she poured me a shot then I sat next to her. “I found out when Zina told me what they did. Justin took Marsha to that park at Loon Lake and screwed her in the car. According to Zina they did it three times. Three times in the car? Doesn’t that easy slut know what beds are for?”

“How does Zina know?”

“The fucking whore told her, Zina said she was bragging how she finally got to fuck Justin. She’s been hitting on him the whole time he and I have dated, well, she did it. She got him, and now she can fucking well have him forever. They deserve each other, bastards and bitches belong together.” She was looking at me with tear filled eyes.

I felt sorry for Irene, she had been dating Justin for over two years, since they were seniors in high school. She was happy, in love, and delighted when he started in two of the same college classes with her; they could be together forever. Now she was getting drunk, mourning her dead relationship with him. I poured another shot for me and her, “I’m sorry Irene, you want me to body slam him for you, or her? I wouldn’t have a problem doing it.”

She looked up with sad, red eyes, “Why?”

“Cause you’re my sister. If someone does one of us wrong, we are all are affected. You told me that when Rick beat the shit out of me, remember, you wanted to shoot his ass.”

Irene smiled grimly, “I would have too, but I couldn’t find dads gun. It really hurt me to see you all busted up in the hospital.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t, if you went to jail it would be awful lonely around here.” That brought her up to a small smile and a quick glance of ‘thank you’ from her eyes. She got off the desk chair and moved to the sofa then invited me to sit with her. I sat next to her then she leaned to me, rested her head on my shoulder. I put a comforting arm around her shoulders as she began to cry. Irene sobbed her sorrow, using my shoulder as a hanky, wiping her watery eyes and dripping nose on my shirt. I turned on the TV then flipped through several channels of crap before Irene said “Turn it off, talk to me.”

I shut off the TV, put down the remote and asked “You want another drink?”

“No, not right now,” She tipped her head back to look at me, “Why do guys do that? Why do they cheat on their girlfriends or wives?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Cause you’re a guy and have dated, what, nine, ten girls? Did you ever cheat on them?”

At twenty-two years old I’d dated more than ten girls but that wasn’t the issue, “No, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean, you don’t think so? You did or you didn’t. Did you have sex with some woman when you were dating another?”

“Not without them knowing.”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“I mean I might have been with two girls at once a couple of times, they didn’t think of it as cheating.”

Irene pushed off my shoulder and stared at me for a few seconds, “Two at the same time? You fucked two girls at the same time?” she repeated.

“They were roommates and Krystal wouldn’t leave when Gabi and I wanted to go to bed so she went with us. That lasted a few months then I broke up with Gabi.”

My sister got off the couch then went to the main window and watched the traffic three floors below for a while, she was silent and I left her alone. Without saying anything she held her arm back, holding the empty glass to me. I took that as a hint and slopped another shot of whiskey in it. She put the glass to her lips and chugged it down then turned to me again, “I never did anything like that, did you love Gabi?”

“Love? I don’t know. She was pretty and sexy, but I’m not sure I would have asked her to marry me if we hadn’t broken up.”

“Did she love you?”

“She never said so, why?”

“How about your other girlfriends, were you in love with any of them?”

I wasn’t sure where the line of questions was going but I didn’t hold back. Irene was my sister; I wasn’t interviewing for a date where the truth might turn her off. “Love is a strong word Sis, I’m not sure I ever felt that way about any girl except Crissy, it tore me up when she dumped me, I would have married her.”

“Crissy was your first girlfriend; you were too young to get married.”


“Did you have sex with her?”

“What the fuck, we playing Twenty Questions?”

“Yeah, that’s what, question five? Did you?”

I stood next to my sister at the window then for the next few minutes I told her about my relationship with Crissy. I was fifteen when we started dating, seventeen when she broke it off. I told Irene about the first aborted attempts to make a pass Crissy, I was afraid to because I thought she would slap the crap out of me or something. Actually, it was she who started the intimacies between us. We were necking like crazy one night and she took my right hand and pulled it over and pressed it against her breast. I didn’t need any more hints or encouragement, from that moment on I had my hands on all over her every time we got more than ten seconds alone. Irene smiled slightly, her eyes were amused, “She made a pass at you?”

“No, she took my hand and used it for me, on her. After that it was two more dates before we screwed.”

“Were you virgins?”

“Is this part of the twenty questions?”

“Yes, I think that may be number eight, or maybe ten.”

I went back to the sofa and poured myself another shot, Irene came over for a refill. It seemed to me she wobbled a little so I took her arm and urged her to sit again. We quaffed the drinks then she prodded further, “So, were you?”

“I was, I don’t know about her, I never asked and I was too sexually stupid to make a determination, or even guess. Besides, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the absolutely amazing feeling of getting off with a girl. I got to tell you; my hand lost out in any contests for companionship after that.” My sister giggled at my anecdote then stood and started looking for her purse, “What are you doing?”

“I have to go; I need some sleep.”

“Irene, you sure as hell don’t need to be driving right now, you’re drunk and depressed, not a good combination to be on the streets. You want me to take you home?” She evaluated my offer for a few seconds then plopped her ass back to the sofa, fell over and started breathing through her open mouth and drooling slightly. Irene had passed out, completely drunk, completely exhausted from the ordeal of breaking up. I swept her long brown hair off her face then tried to rearrange her on the couch cushions so she was stretched out. She looked uncomfortable but I left my sister to go pee and get ready for bed.

I came back to the front room to check on Irene and found her lying on her back, on the floor, in front of the sofa. Her left leg was still on the cushion so her skirt had slid up her thigh, giving me a full-on view of tight, pink lace panties. Believe it or not, she looked more comfy on the floor than when she was on the sofa, but I couldn’t leave her there. I tried to ignore the nice up-skirt view when I poked her with my toes, “Hey, don’t you want to sleep on the sofa?”

Irene threw and arm over her eyes and mumbled something incoherent then pulled her leg off the furniture. She rolled to her side and tried to make a pillow with an arm. I couldn’t leave her like that so I decided to sacrifice my bed to my intoxicated sister. Even though she is a small woman, between 105 and 110 pounds, picking her up was like auditioning for a clown job. She was so limp she kept slipping out of my hands and arms. After dropping her three times I managed to get my left arm hooked under her knees and my right around her back. I was holding a tit for a better grip as I carried her to my bed. I flopped her down, relieved to let go of the boneless mass. She threw her arms wide, stretched across the bed and grumbled more gibberish.

I stood back and looked at my younger sister. Twenty years old, 5’2, slender, but with a well-formed woman’s body. Her light brown hair was permed in long waves, kind of old fashioned but attractive. If her eyes were open, they would have been hazel trending to green. I couldn’t decide if she was cute, pretty, lovely or beautiful. But, as her brother, it’s not my place to make that call, so I didn’t let it occupy my mind. I left her on the bed then went to sleep on the sofa.

It was after 1 in the morning when a loud knocking on my door woke me up. I stumbled through a haze of sleep and peered through the fisheye. Justin. My sister’s boyfriend, or to be more precise, ex-boyfriend, was standing in the stairwell. I opened the door, “Is Irene here?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to her.”

“She’s asleep, go home.”

He stood firm, “Come on Brett, I really need to talk to her, wake her up.”

“I’m not going to wake her, she’s drunk, probably won’t wake up even if I tried.”

“Let me try, I’m begging. Man, I fucked up big time, and I have to try to make it right with Irene.”

“Women usually don’t forgive cheating so quick, but if you think you can convince her you’re a good guy again, you can check on her.” I stopped blocking the door and let Justin in. He looked around and I pointed the direction to my room. I didn’t give him much of a chance to square things with my sister, she was really hurt, pretty pissed, and even more drunk.

Justin went to the bedroom and I grabbed a glass of cold water and went back to the front room then turned on the TV. After about ten minutes I got curious so I got up to see what the hell was going on in my room. I couldn’t imagine my sister sitting quiet while her two-timing boyfriend explained himself. I expected to hear yelling, I didn’t. What I saw when I opened the door sent a flood of adrenaline directly to my blood, my mind froze, I reacted to what I saw. Justin had Irene on her back, her knees bent over the edge of the mattress. She was still passed out. Her skirt was hiked up to her stomach, her pink panties bunched up on the bed next to her shoulder; he was fucking her.

I grabbed the son-of-a-bitch by the back of the neck and jerked him away from Irene. His cock pulled out of her when he fell to his ass. I kicked him in the ribs and was ready to throw the cocksucker out the window but held back; I couldn’t kill him, that had serious consequences. I dragged him by an arm out of the room, to the door and shoved him into the stairwell, his pants were still around his ankles so he stumbled and fell three steps down before he caught himself. I slammed the door then leaned on it, calming down for a few moments. Once I got my breath under control I went back to my sister. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees, her head in her hands. When she heard me come in, she looked up, “Was I dreaming? Was Justin here?”

“He’s gone. You can go back to sleep.”

She looked at me bewildered, she was still drunk and confused, she glanced around and found her panties on the bed then felt between her legs for a mess. She pulled the hand from under her skirt, look at it, and asked “He screwed me?”

I let Irene down, I should have been with Justin in the room, if for no other reason than to keep them from fighting. I didn’t, I sat in the front room while the ex-boyfriend became a rapist. I sat next to my sister and pulled her into a hug then fell back to the bed pulling her down beside me. She began to cry again, “I can’t believe he did all that Brett, I thought he loved me.” I was kinked at my hips, with my legs over the edge of the bed. I kicked off my shoes then twisted around to lie completely on the bed. When I was done shifting my sister also moved until she was lying with me, her head on my shoulder. She was still grieving for her lost love as I drifted to sleep.

I woke to the fragrance of coffee. My eyes opened and the first thing I saw was a mug, held by my sister who looked like she’d spent the night in a tumble dryer. Her eyes were bleeding, her hair a tangle of knots, and the cup shook slightly. She was wearing my terrycloth morning robe. “Take this,” she said, “I have to take a shower.” I was still fully dressed so when I sat up my pants bunched up between my legs, pinching my nuts in folds of denim. I grabbed my pants to adjust myself as Irene watched. I took the coffee, she left for the bathroom. As she walked from me in the short robe, I couldn’t help but check out her nicely shaped legs.

I was changing from my day before clothes to a fresh set when I heard from the bathroom, “Brett, where in the hell is the hair conditioner?” Wearing just a t shirt and briefs I went to find out what my sister was yelling about. I poked my head in the bathroom door so see Irene leaning part way out of the shower, she said “I need conditioner for my hair, I have to get the shampoo out, there isn’t any here.” Saying nothing to her I went to the small closet next to the sink and pulled out a bottle of conditioner. I held it to her, she looked at it for a moment, then shifted her eyes to my face. Her mouth curled up to a slight grin then she said “You do it.”

“Do what?”

“Rinse my hair with this, put it on, rub it in, wash it out.”

Whoa, What? “You want me to get in there with you and do your hair?” Irene stepped to one side then pulled the shower curtain open for me. My feet were cemented to the floor as I stared at her nudity, I couldn’t move them. My own younger sister just invited me to shower with her? What the fuck? She watched my reaction, her eyes glinted with fun, “Hurry up, or I’ll have to shampoo again.”

My mind blanked out my relationship to the woman in the shower so I stepped in, still wearing my shorts and shirt. When the water soaked the cloth, my underwear molded wetly to my body. Irene stepped back to the wall of the shower and looked me up and down. The wet material clung to, and highlighted the muscles of my chest, and the shape of my prick. Satisfied with what she saw she turned away, dipped her head in the stream of water then waited for me to use the conditioner. I looked her up and down, from the long, wet hair to the small of her back, over the curve of her butt cheeks to her feet. The water flowing over her made her skin shiny, slick, vibrant. I peered over her shoulder at her tits which were standing full and firm, her nipples looked long and swollen, miniature waterfalls were falling from them. I poured a large dollop from the bottle to the top of her head then began to massage it into her scalp as my prick started reacting to the intimate situation. In less than a minute I had a fully matured erection, it formed a large tent in the front of my briefs.

Irene put her hands on the wall of the stall and tilted her head back so I could work the lotion into her hair. I was still looking at her back, her ass and legs while my fingers were busy, my cock was like Jack’s beanstalk, it wouldn’t quit growing and began to hurt from the unceasing expansion; I felt so much pressure I thought it would come apart at the seams. I took a hand off my sister’s head to adjust my erection, but the clinging wet cloth wouldn’t let me ease the strain. I pulled my shorts over my cock then shimmied my ass until they fell to my ankles. My unconstrained prick stuck straight and hard, pointed directly at Irene’s ass. She turned slightly to see what I was doing; when she saw my cock waving free, her eyes moved up to mine and she bent her back, raised up on her toes then moved her butt until I slipped between her thighs. I put both hands on her hips then with the aim and skill of an accomplished lover, impaled her with my erection. Irene yelped, slapped her hands on the shower wall then pressed back on me; I began fucking her.

She bowed her back, putting more pressure against my stomach while I rolled my back to screw her. Irene turned her head to look up at me and flashed a small smile. I pushed up, deep and strong enough to lift her feet off the floor, her entire weight was hanging on my cock, Irene gasped, closed her eyes and moaned. She fumbled with the faucet to turn the water off, slipped off my boner then took my hand and pulled me from the shower to my room. At the bed she turned to me, took both my hands in hers then fell back, pulling me to her, between her spread legs. I slipped back into Irene, then she and I tried our damnedest to break my bed.

I may have been surprised as hell at what Irene had done, that she instigated sex with me, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to refuse her. The entire time we were bouncing on the bed I had nagging thoughts about who she was, and why she seduced me, but I wasn’t about to complain or pull out. If I was a revenge fuck, oh well, I thought, that was a fate I would have to put up with. She was hot, limber and the longer we coupled, the wilder she got. Irene had been screwing Justin for a couple of years and never worried about getting knocked up so I wasn’t concerned about her safety either. The forces of life swelled my cock, hardened my nuts then, when I couldn’t hold on any longer, I warned her, “I’m cuming Irene, I’m gonna ------!” My sister grabbed my ass and held tight as I shot a double-ball blast into her.

When I was done pumping her up, I relaxed to lie on her stomach. She huffed softly into my ear, “You’re fucking heavy, get off.”

I answered her with a bit of satire, “I just did.” She slapped my butt then pushed me over to lie beside her.

She rolled to her side facing me then said with a hint of a grin, “I still have conditioner in my hair.”

I wasn’t concerned about her hair just then, “What the hell happened, why did you do that?”

Her eyes turned serious, “Not sure, I just didn’t want to walk around today knowing that the last guy to fuck me is cheating on me. Having common DNA didn’t matter.”

“I’m an emergency fuck, ‘Pull Zipper in Case of Emergency’?”

Her eyes twinkled, “You’re complaining? I thought guys like non-committal quickies.”

“You didn’t get off.”

She pushed me away, “Don’t worry about it, that’s not why I did it. I need to get up Brett, I have to finish washing my hair.” I pulled my wet shirt off and tossed at her as she walked away.

Twenty minutes later I was dishing up scrambled eggs and bacon for Irene, she was sipping orange juice. She was wearing my robe and again commiserating about Justin. That we had just fucked like hot new lovers wasn’t part of the breakfast conversation, “Was I dreaming last night or was Justin here?”

When I told her what happened, that I threw his naked ass out the door she laughed brightly, “Good thing you got him before I woke up, if I had been sober, I would have sliced his nuts open with a dull kitchen knife. He got off easy.”

Before Irene left for her own place, she asked me what I was doing the rest of the day. I reminded her that I have a job and wouldn’t be home until after five. She asked if she could come over after her afternoon class. I felt a little daring so I wondered out loud if she was coming back for another bedroom encounter. She rolled her eyes, said “Don’t you wish” then flipped me the finger as she walked out.

Later that day, while remembering the wild fuck my sister put on me, I fixed up a little placard for her. When she came in about six that evening, Irene took one look at my groin and chirped a quick amused laugh. She put her fingers on the tag tied to my zipper that said ‘Pull Zipper in Case of Emergency’, tugged it down and said, “This time you have to get me off.”

Rating: 93%, Read 99509 times, Posted Sep 18, 2019

Fiction | Female, Incest, Male


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