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2106: Psychlone cuts a loop.

I watched as her hands, tucked into either side of her flimsy panties' waistband, slid the thongs down her legs and she stepped out of them. Her ass cheeks swelled as they arched outward when she bent forward, and I imagined my thick, hard cock laid alongside the cleavage of my sister's splendid buttocks. I also wondered what it would feel like to shove my massive member between those nether orbs and bury it deep inside her rectum.

Slowly, she pirouetted, her arms extended over her head, hands together, like a ballerina, and, trumpeting "Ta da!," she showed me her cute little penis. It jutted from her shaved pubes, stiff and swollen, looking like the erection of a teenage boy rather than the rigid, upright organ of an adult male--or, in her case, shemale. Beaming at me, she asked, "Do you like what you see?"

I couldn't pretend otherwise, not convincingly, at least, so I nodded. "You're very beautiful."

One of her ballerina's hands descended to her genitals. Cupping her balls, she bounced them--and her boyish cock--in her palm. "Even these, brother Beau?" she asked saucily.

I held her eyes with my own. I could not lie--or, again, not convincingly--so I told her the truth. "Especially those."

She closed the distance between us, smiling. Happiness shone upon her lovely face as she threw her arms around me. I felt the press of her breasts against my upper body. This time, there was not even a layer of silk between us, and I felt the sleek, firm-soft warmth of her bare flesh upon my naked chest. Her mouth pressed mine, her lips parting. Her tongue, wet, became wild inside my mouth. I swirled and twirled my own tongue around hers, and, holding them stiff, we thrust these members back and forth inside our warm, liquid oral cavities.

One of her dainty hands clutched my erect prick. She gave the hard, swollen member a firm squeeze. "Do you still think incest is wrong, brother Beau?" she demanded.

I did, but I didn't care.

She squeezed me again before rubbing my balls through the wool of my tuxedo's trousers. "Take off the rest of your clothes."

She didn't need to ask me twice. In less than a minute, I'd doffed the remaining articles of the outfit, and I was as naked as Kirsten herself.

She gazed at me--stared at me is more like it--openly and unashamedly. Her sparkling eyes lingered upon my hard, sculpted pecs, my firm, chiseled abs, my thick, powerful thighs and full, firm calves, before coming to a rest upon the long, thick, hard cock that jutted from its tangled nest of pubic hair. "You're beautiful, too," she said, grinning.

"Handsome, you mean," I corrected her.

"I mean what I said," she replied. "You're beautiful."

I shrugged. "If you say so."

She knelt on the carpet. My erection was but inches from her face. She bent forward, her breasts still high and round, rather than stretching downward as a genetic woman's natural breasts would do, and kissed the purple tip of my penis with her lips. The press of them upon the crown of my cock was as delicate as the brush of a butterfly's wings, but the sensation sent a thrill that was almost electric through my groin and up my spine. I shivered.

She looked up at me, smiling.

"Wouldn't we be more comfortable in bed?" I asked.

"It's not really about being comfortable," she said, "but we can go to bed if you want--as long as it's not to sleep."

Although I'd been exhausted a few minutes ago, I was wide awake now. "There's no need to worry about that," I assured her.

She laughed. "Help me up, then, brother Beau."

I held out a hand, and she clasped it. Her touch sent a thrill through me, from my balls to my brain. Again, I shivered.

"You cold?"

"No."

She frowned, repressing a smile. "Oh. I see."

I helped her to her feet, and we crossed the room. She put her arm around my waist as we walked, side by side, down the corridor to the master bedroom.

For the first time since I'd bought the twin beds to ease Mona's suffering, I regretted that I didn't have a king-size bed.

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