Incest, oil painting
"... The station square. I'm sitting in the car and watching a disgusting scene. A dirty homeless vagrant appeared from somewhere and, without any embarrassment, exposed his business in public. He's urinating right on the pavement. He's drunk. Why didn't he go to the toilet? Because the toilet is paid, and they wouldn't let him in. But he found money for booze, didn't he? So why couldn't he find money for the toilet? Because he doesn't care where he relieves himself. But what's shocking is that no one approaches him or tells him off. No one cares, and some are even amused by it. So, it suits everyone. I don't want to get out of the car either. But I can't look away. I keep watching.
Why? Because that's the psychology of our behavior in society."
From the diary of Ann Marie Fisher.
So, today my parents presented me with one of those 'share-and-move-over' surprises.
"We have a surprise for you," my mom said to me right in the morning.
"Yeah, a surprise," my dad said too.
"A tricked-out computer?"
"No."
"The latest iPhone?"
"No."
"A Mercedes?"
"No."
"Well then, a thousand bucks."
"You're the one who instilled these selfish interests and a passion for acquisitiveness in her," my mom said to my dad. "I don't know how to talk to her anymore."
"What's wrong with that? That's how it should be these days," my dad said to my mom.
"No, daughter, you didn't guess."
"Then I don't know. I'll assume a rich relative abroad has turned up. He kicked the bucket, and now I'm due a multi-million dollar inheritance. No? Didn't guess? Then take your surprises and get lost. See, I'm busy."
"What are you busy with?" my mom stamped her foot.
"Chatting with boys on social media."
"Your selfishness knows no bounds," my mom again.
They're really getting on my nerves. If they're getting on my nerves, it's definitely a surprise. But if I keep guessing wrong, this surprise is definitely a piece of shit.
"You have a little sister," my dad finally said.
"Wha-a-at?"
"You're going to have a sister now," my mom said, raising her voice.
"I don't see a pregnant belly on you. Isn't it a bit late to decide to give birth? You might even kick the bucket on the delivery table in the maternity ward."
"If you behave like that and talk to me in that tone, you won't get another ruble."
"Dad will give me money. He loves me more."
"That's it, you're grounded. And if you give her even a dollar, you can go to your bedroom and don't even come near my bed. Understood?"
"Okay, okay, understood."
"So here's the thing," my mom started again. "You have an adult sister. Dad was once married to another woman, and they had a daughter. Now she's going to live with us. Because she's Dad's daughter. And because the court ruled so. She's five years older than you. I have to tell you this because you're already 18, and you're supposed to know about it. Take it as a surprise, a gift, a punishment, or whatever."
"So, a sister."
"Yes."
"And she'll live in our apartment?"
"Yes. What, five rooms aren't enough for you? Well, we'll allocate one. There will still be four left."
"And when you kick the bucket, am I supposed to split the inheritance with her or something?"
"No, look how she talks! You raised a daughter who's a selfish, rude brat. Just like her daddy."
"Oh yeah? And who spoiled her until she was eighteen? Who indulged her in everything? You let her run wild, and she got out of hand."
"And where were you all this time, you old goat? And how did you behave in court? Couldn't even slip some money to the right people."
"You're a complete idiot."
"And I stomped on your snout, you jerk, you fat pig."
"Hi," she said to me.
"Who are you?" I asked contemptuously, ignoring her "hi."
"Your sister. My name is Yana," she said without batting an eyelid.
"I've never had any brothers or sisters since birth. Where did you come from? I don't know you, and I was doing just fine without you."
"Your dad should have told you everything. We have the same dad. So, we're sisters."
"I don't acknowledge such kinship. But since it's happened, I'll have to put up with you. Just don't interfere in my business and don't get under my feet."
"I hope we'll become friends. And grow to love each other."
"How's that?"
"Well, we'll find, say, common interests."
"Here's my interest in you," I spat on the floor and ground it in with my foot, then turned my back and went to my room.
I ignored this Yana all day. But she talked with my mom and managed to find common ground with her. Mom even postponed her trips to boutiques and beauty salons, which had never happened before. Well, well, cooing like doves, I thought spitefully. Coo-coo-coo, tee-tee-tee, and I guess I'm not needed anymore. So, I get zero attention, a pound of contempt. Mom took her around the rooms and showed her the house. Then they went to the second floor. Screw them.
Dinner time came, and I went down to the dining room. Breakfast, lunch, dinner—that's a whole separate story. Why can't you just sit where it's convenient and eat what you want? And when you want. You could even eat straight from the fridge. No, everything with them is like at Queen Elizabeth's court. Everything is scheduled by the minute. And a whole ritual. If you please. Please pass that. And where did you all crawl out from? Daddy, a former Soviet plumber who bought up vouchers at markets in the wild nineties and made his capital on that, and Mom, just an office cleaner who knew how to wiggle her ass better than the others. Some fine ladies and gentlemen they've become. It's sickening to watch. They've forgotten how they used to eat hastily in cheap canteens and buy pies reheated a hundred times at the markets. And now, damn it, if you'd be so kind, would it trouble you to pass that. So fat dad sits there and eats only with a fork. Doesn't even slurp. And tucked a snow-white napkin into his collar. Put on a show for little Yana, the bastard. Some CEO he is.
Director of toilets, sinks, and chamber pots, which he hauled in from who knows where and resells at triple the price. And such a prissy one too. And yet he used to eat cold sausages with his hands off a spread-out newspaper and wash it down with cheap rotgut straight from the bottle. And Mom—with a little knife and fork, neatly dissecting a pheasant, like a plastic surgeon stretching a wrinkled mug and turning a rich old woman into a twenty-year-old
girl. Forgot how three bosses dragged her around offices and literally fed her from their hands. I'd like to take these plates and shove them down their throats. And smear it on their faces. I hate these hypocrites. I'd kill them all. Across from me on the other side of the table sits this Yana and tries to follow their example. But you, you pauper, what, can't you eat normally? Poking with a fork too? Oh! My thoughts were interrupted by something unusual. And this unusual thing was that something soft and tender suddenly pressed against me between my legs under the table. I didn't even understand what was happening at first. Soft touches of something warm were stroking me between my legs over my panties, and I involuntarily lowered my hand down. A tender calf, then a smooth heel. And the toes of her foot were right on my crotch, stroking gently. What a rude girl, and behaving like that at the table.
I looked at Yana angrily. Well, well, she's looking straight into my eyes and even smirking. And continues to gently stroke me between my legs. My first thought was to push her foot away with my hand, but that would be too noticeable. Push the chair back, stand up, and leave? But I haven't eaten anything yet. I hesitated and didn't do anything for a while. Suddenly I realized that I couldn't remove the girl's foot from my intimate place anymore. Because I don't want to remove it from myself. Something sweetly exciting appeared down there, it was pleasant and gradually intensifying. It came from the gentle touch. My appetite completely vanished, and a blissful force began to rise and pulse inside me, emanating from this Yana's toes. erotic stories What a pest, huh? How suddenly good I started to feel. I lowered my hand down and unconsciously began to stroke the girl's foot and press against it more tightly. I feel good, so be it. She probably knows what she's doing, this Yana. I moved my panties aside, and a toe caressed my vaginal lips. A wave of passionate excitement rose in me and overwhelmed me. I felt myself starting to tremble. I sat and stared at my plate, not daring to lift my head and not moving. And I tried not to breathe heavily. But at that moment, Dad made an awkward movement while pouring wine into a glass on a thin, tall stem. The glass tipped over and fell into Mom's plate, its contents spilling right into the salad. That was quite enough for a scandal. Pushing her fork aside, Mom said:
"Look, Yanochka, how real pigs behave at the table, the ones whose hands grow out of their asses."
"If that were the case, you'd be slurping from a common trough in a pigsty right now," Dad retorted.
Yana flushed deeply and immediately removed her foot from me. She gracefully stood up and said to Mom:
"May I go to my room? I have a bit of a headache."
"Of course, Yanochka."
"I'll clear my dishes," said Yana.
"Forget about that now. That's what the servants are for."
Yana measured me with a long, promising look and left the table.
"I'm going too," I said and also stood up.
"Sit down and finish, you haven't eaten anything."
"I don't want this bland slop. I'd rather go open some chips."
"This, as you call it, slop, costs a lot of money, and chips are bad for you."
"Bad for you, huh? And guzzling beer by the liter is good for you? I'm going to my room, it's disgusting to watch you bicker."
"You raised a selfish, rude brat."
"As if you're any better."
I silently stood up and went to my room. Behind my back, I heard the sound of breaking dishes and Dad's choice swearing. Well, I always envied how well he could curse. You can tell he's a real plumber! But right now, I wasn't concerned with them. Climbing the stairs, I noted that it was wet and uncomfortable between my legs, and the excitement wasn't subsiding. I locked myself in and lay down on the bed. My hand automatically reached for my crotch, and I slipped two fingers in there. Closing my eyes, I passionately masturbated thinking of Yana and imagined her touching and stroking me between my legs with her own hands. A quick orgasm came, and I came quite vividly. A sweet spasm passed through my body, and I relaxed.
I sat in front of the computer all evening. My mood was lousy, and I kept thinking about my sister who fell from the sky. All my thoughts were only of her, and I reasonably assumed I'd fallen head over heels for this Yana. Because I wanted a continuation of what happened under the table down there. Even despite the masturbation, the tension didn't ease, and I wanted intimate closeness with this girl more and more. I went to bed, but sleep wouldn't come, and I lay with my eyes open. I hadn't even managed to doze off when there was a knock at the door.
"Who the hell is it, what do you want now? I'm already asleep. Everyone get lost."
"It's Yana, please open up."
I immediately jumped up and quietly opened the door.
"Can I come in?" Yana whispered.
"Come in, just be quiet."
I was already in my nightgown and invited her right onto the bed, even though she was still dressed.
"Sit next to me."
And Yana, turning back the sheet, sat on the very edge.
"Well, I won't beat around the bush. I wanted to ask. Did you like it when I touched you so indecently with my foot? Sorry, but I saw you started feeling good and pleasant."
"You know everything yourself. Of course, it felt good. I liked your touch, and I wanted it to continue. I masturbated thinking of you afterwards."
"Really? You really have no inhibitions," she looked straight into my eyes and brought her hand to me. Then she stroked my face with her soft palm, then down my chin and neck, and confidently placed her palm on my full breast. Her fingers moved, and the touch echoed through my whole body with a sweet languor. I felt my breast filling and hardening, and a sweet, paralyzing poison of depraved love spreading through my body.
"Do you like it?" Yana asked.
"Yes, keep going."
"Lie on your back," she said, and I obediently lay down.
Yana settled between my legs, and I felt the touch of her lips right on my crotch. She slowly and lightly caressed with soft lips, and I felt that passionate languor rising in me again, the one I experienced at the table. And it didn't compare at all to my masturbation. Then her fingers began to penetrate inside, and her little tongue moved deeper along with them. Now I gave free rein to my feelings, and my heavy breathing turned into a moan. Yana continued to caress, doing it gently and rhythmically, with the very tip of her tongue. I had never experienced anything like it because I had never been intimate with girls before. I could even feel my clitoris pulsing. And this gentle sex seemed much more vivid to me than, for example, with a guy. So that's my sister. She gave me such sensations that I involuntarily pushed forward to meet her and tossed my head from side to side. Yana caressed and caressed, and inside me, it was as if a fuse was burning, attached to a dynamite charge that was about to explode. I flowed like a dairy cow, and the girl continued to stimulate me with her fingers and little tongue. Finally, the orgasm inevitably ended with a powerful explosion, and I threw my head back on the pillow. We lay motionless for a while, and then I peacefully fell asleep.
I woke up early in the morning, and Yana wasn't next to