The Bimbo Pill Pt. 03 - Gwen

She rose, and smacked the meaty part of his arm with one palm. "I know that, you big dumb goof."

"Hey!"

"I also know," she said, taking up a bottle of strawberry-scented body wash which had somehow survived her move to Mankato, "that the pill helps me not think about things. All I do," she said, breathing deeply, "is feel."

She began to rub the body wash into her skin, and Max helped. Her body was incredible, having a taut firmness that his mother, despite her gracefully mature beauty, could not match. He pressed against her back, his arms reaching around to lather up her thighs, her belly, her ridiculously pert and perky breasts. Her blond hair lay in a thick wet cable down her back, and he ran it through his fingers, enjoying her purr of satisfaction.

"You are so damn gorgeous," he breathed, holding her breasts in his cupped palms. He watched with smug pride as the tips hardened, standing up from the surrounding aereolae.

Before he could explore any farther, she pulled away, rinsing off under the hot spray, then sat back down on the stone seat. "God, Max, you make me so horny." Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, and her face was flushed, whether from the hot water and steam or from desire, he couldn't tell.

She spread her legs. "Do I make you horny, too?"

"You damn well know you do, Linda."

"Hmmm." A wicked smile crossed her face. "I'm not sure. I want you," she stated, "to get hard for me."

"That will take about five seconds," he said. He put his hand on his cock.

"No." He stopped, confused. "How do I know you're thinking about me when you're touching yourself like that? You could be thinking about your girlfriend."

"Gwen?" He snorted, though he took his hand away from his dick. "Not fucking likely. She broke it off between us a few weeks ago. She thinks that because I'm going to Minnesota for college, and she's going out west to Stanford, we won't be able to make a long-distance relationship work.

"I don't know why it means we had to break up in March, though, if she's not leaving until August. Five months, down the drain."

"Well, she's a moron," Linda said. And though he appreciated the fact his sister was taking his side, part of him bristled at her casual slander. Then she frowned and blinked. "This was her idea?"

"Yeah."

"And she had got into the U of M, just like you?"

"Yeah," he said impatiently. "Listen, Linda. Do you want to talk about my ex, or do you want to see me get hard for you?"

"Men," she replied disgustedly. "Can't walk and chew gum at the same time."

But thankfully she dropped the subject, leaning back against the tiled wall of the shower. Max watched her as she slowly played with herself, her hands roaming over her stomach, her inner thighs, her breasts, tweaking her nipples, and then her pussy, grazing her labia carefully as her eyes grew brighter.

As she did, his cock slowly hardened, his sister staring at it avidly. Each pump of blood through his veins made it lengthen. And then it began to rise with quick jerks, growing harder and harder until it was standing straight up from the brown thicket of hair plastered to his groin by the falling water.

God, she groaned, watching him with starving eyes, as if she had not had her fill just the night before. He makes me so hot. Her little brother, strong and male and gorgeous, with a wonderful body that made her core ache for sex even when he wasn't standing in front of her stark naked.

"Hard enough for you, Linda?" he teased, when he was fully erect.

"Only one way to find out," she retorted. She stood, turned around, and placed her hands flat on the wall, bending at the waist and spreading her legs. "Come on, big man," she taunted, feeling the warm water pour down her back, between the globes of her ass, and finally reach her slit. She looked over her shoulder at Max, who was staring at her, his jaw wide open. "I think it's time you actually did something with that thing."

"Standing up? In the shower?"

"Why not?" She wiggled her ass at him. "Unless you're really clumsy, you won't fall." Indeed, their mother had insisted on a stone floor for the shower, despite the additional cost. The material was slightly gritty under her toes, but less slippery than tile or ceramic. "And if we make a mess, well, it'll rinse right off."

"You're nuts," he stated flatly, but moved closer. She sighed as his big, strong hands settled around her waist. She reached behind herself, grabbed his shaft, and whimpered happily as she eased him into her hungry fuck-hole.

"How do you want it?" he whispered into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers up her spine.

"Hard," she said. "And fast. I'm so ready to cum, Max. Watching you get hard when I played with myself made me so fucking hot." She moved his hands to her breasts, moaning approvingly as he held onto them tightly. "There. Yeah. And hard, Max. Hard! Yeah!" She squealed. "Like that!" as her brother began to thrust vigorously into her, every movement of his hips punctuated by the firm slap as his belly hit her ass-cheeks.

I'm going to have him spank me next time, she thought vaguely, as his rod plunged into her over and over again. He was rubbing on her clit, and she bit her lips, fighting for balance. This had been her idea, and it would be embarrassing if her legs collapsed and she pulled them both to the floor. And she shuddered to think about the damage she would do to Max's cock if she did.

Oh, but he felt so good inside her, his hot, steely length rubbing her inner walls in a way that made her melt inside. She hung her head, gasping at the force of her arousal, searching for the wave...

There it was! It welled up inside her, so fierce and quick that she could only close her eyes and pant, helpless to anything but wait for it to claim her. Her toes curled against the gritty stone under her feet. One flailing hand reached around and snagged the muscle of Max's buttock, urging him into her harder harder harder-

"Harder, Max," she ground out from between clenched teeth. "For the love of God, harder!"

And somehow, he found another gear, slamming into her, his hips battering her rear as his wonderful cock pounded her pussy, and then oh, and then it happened, her climax rushing through her body like a runaway train, and she screamed out his name at the top of her lungs as she came and came and came. And then she felt him let go at last, his cock erupting, spewing the contents of his balls into her body, both of them fulfilling the purpose for which they had been created.

*****

"Well," their mother said mildly, arching an inquiring eyebrow at them when they finally made their way down for breakfast. "That sounded like fun."

"It was," she replied. "Man, is Max a great fuck or what?"

"He is." She ruffled her son's hair fondly, smiling as he blushed. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything!" she roared, then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"Mom," Max said, pulling out a chair. "I don't want to worry you or anything, but I think my sister is brain-damaged."

"Yeah," Veronica replied sadly. She split a blueberry muffin in half and dropped both parts, face down, in a skillet that held a coating of bacon grease. The cooked bacon sat on a tray nearby, and she stirred a pot of steaming oatmeal. "I know. I never wanted to tell anyone, but the truth is that when she was three, she fell down the back stairs and gave her head a nasty whack. But look at her now!" she said cheerfully. "She can feed herself and hardly ever poops her pants anymore!"

"Blah blah blah," Linda replied as her mother lifted the pot of oatmeal over to the table. She ladled some into her bowl, then added brown sugar, butter, and raisins. After Max helped by bringing over the muffins and the bacon, the rest of the family sat down to a morning breakfast.

"Linda," her mother said. "I have an important question."

"Is it about fucking?" she replied.

"No. Well, in a way." She found her eyes caught in a curiously intense gaze. "Baby, I forgot to ask yesterday. But are you on birth control?"

"Of course." The oatmeal was really good, and she ate hungrily, trading off bites of crispy bacon and toasted muffin..

"Oh, thank goodness." Veronica sagged back in her chair. "Because I'm pretty sure Max didn't want to wake up one morning to the news that he'd sired a bouncing blue-eyed baby bastard boy."

"Why not? I bet Max would make a great father. Better than our dad, that's for sure." She glanced at Max, who seemed a trifle wild-eyed about the prospect of being a parent.

"True. But I bet he'd feel a little bit awkward being the only freshman at the University of Minnesota who was a father."

"Damn right," the subject of the conversation muttered.

"Whatever. I bet there's some dumb-ass jock on the football team who's knocked up a cheerleader back in high school."

"So what are you two planning on doing today?" their mother asked a bit later, after they had eaten and the dishes had been washed and put away.

"Fucking," she replied cheerfully.

Veronica sighed, shaking her head. Two fingers rose to pinch the bridge of her nose. "You're worse than I was when I first started taking it."

"Not really," her son put in from his position on the couch. Linda was half-draped over him. One hand was inside his shirt, while her lips dropped teasing kisses on his neck. "Remember..." he counted back on his fingers. "Remember the third or fourth night? You came into my bedroom and started to give me a blow job in my sleep. Startled the hell out of me when I woke up," he explained to his sister, who giggled.

Veronica found herself blushing bright red. "Well...okay," she admitted. "But if you keep this up, Linda, you're going to wear Max out."

"True," her son muttered. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh wishes it was twins." He looked at his mother. "Can you hook me up with some Viagra?"

"Hah," she snorted. "You're eighteen. It's going to be a while before you have to worry about your little soldier not coming to attention, kiddo."

"This is boring," Linda pouted. "I'm still horny and we haven't fucked in over an hour." She caught Max's hand and pulled it under her skirt. "Guess what I'm not wearing," she whispered, loud enough for all three of them to hear, and bit his earlobe.

"Wait," Max said, his brow furrowing. "I almost have it. Don't tell me." As Veronica watched, his hand slid higher, exploring his sister's thighs. "Is the answer...panties?"

"You got it!" she squealed. Then her voice changed, as Max's finger eased its way into her pussy. "Oh, that feels good." She hiked her skirt up to her waist, flashing her mother lewdly. "See, Mom? See how good Max is fingering me?"

"I've created a monster," she sighed, though her lips twitched. They were two beautiful children, and she was proud of them. And, to be honest, she was more than a bit tempted to join in the fun herself. Her thoughts shied away from doing anything with Linda. But perhaps Linda would settle for Max eating her out or fingering her, while she let his cock explore the depths of her pussy? Last night she had been content to let Max screw Linda, but now she was beginning to feel a little left out. It had been over a day since they had made love, and her pussy was feeling the results of being neglected.

She was just unbuttoning her blouse when a loud thump sounded from the back deck. "What in the world?" she asked, her head swiveling towards the noise.

Then she stopped, her eyes locking with the icy, enraged gaze of Max's former girlfriend, Gwen Tollefson.

"Oh, shit.

"Max, get your finger out of your sister's hoo-ha and let Gwen inside.

"I guess we have some explaining to do."

*****

Gwen drove through town, becoming increasingly more aggravated as the morning wore on. Max didn't respond to her texts, and when she phoned him, the calls went straight to voice mail. After leaving two messages, she started to hang up each time she heard his infuriatingly cheerful voice assure her that he would get back to her as soon as he could.

She ate lunch at a Mexican restaurant, not wanting to go home and face her family. Her parents still didn't understand why she had broken up with Max, and gently hinted that she should try to patch things up with him. Her mother referred to him as "that nice boy," her father was guardedly approving, and Peter was just happy to have another guy around, even if Max was nearly six years older than he was. At least he was someone he could talk to about the Vikings and the Timberwolves.

Only Mary Jane, she thought, had some inkling of the truth. And she would rather have splinters shoved under her nails than reveal to her younger sister how the removal of Max from her life had left her nearly climbing the walls from pent-up sexual frustration. Her ex-boyfriend was great in a lot of ways, but most of all, he was a fantastic fuck. She could still remember a day about a month ago, when they had met over at his house on a day off from class. What had started out as a casual make-out session on his couch had devolved into a frenzied bout of screwing, his mouth and lips and tongue and cock driving her crazy. By the time they were done, she was so spent that a bomb could have gone off next door and she would have hardly had the energy to blink.

After her meal, she got back in her car. But rather than go to the mall or the movies, as she had vaguely planned, she abruptly turned on her blinker and headed for Max's house.

We're going to get this settled, once and for all, she thought, her jaw firming. If he's too damn myopic to see how much he means to me, I'll make him see it. I don't want to go to California without him. Fuck it. I'll stay in Minnesota if that's what he wants.

Her resolve hit a snag, however, when she saw that his sister's car was parked neatly in the driveway. She swallowed as she turned off her engine and climbed out. She had always found Linda Melton more than a little...intimidating. Two years older than Max and Gwen, Linda had sailed through North Minneapolis High School with a casual grace which Gwen had envied.

Not that she ever noticed me, she grumbled to herself. No. Gwen Tollefson wasn't important enough for Little Miss Perfect to look at.

A cold gust of air whipped through the trees, and she shivered, hesitating on the doorstep. Her finger hovered an inch above the doorbell.

Go on, dummy. You've been here a hundred times! What are you so scared of?

Oh, Jesus. But what if they're all there? His sister, his mom? I don't want them all listening as I hash things out with Max.

On a whim, hoping to put off the inevitable, she walked around the house, her shoes noiseless on the thin carpeting of snow. In places, brown clumps of grass showed up through the patchy covering, reminders of spring to come.

Driven by some impulse she could not name, she went into the back yard. A large wooden deck, with built-in benches and a waist-high railing, led off from the rear of the house. In summer, she knew from experience, it was a great place to sit out at night and watch the stars, especially if one had a strong young man to share the experience with, safe within the circle of his arms.

Hopefully Max would be in the family room, and his mother would be out. Then she could just knock on the patio door, tell a little fib about the doorbell not working, and they could have their talk. She was sure that Max would understand, once she explained things to him.

Using small words, if necessary. And a blunt instrument to hammer the point home, if she had to.

Instead, when she peeked into the house, what she saw left her head reeling, her mind unable to come to grips with what her eyes were showing her.

Her ex-boyfriend sat on the couch, dressed in his favorite pair of worn denim jeans, every faded inch of which she knew by heart, and a simple white t-shirt. Next to him was his sister, and their mother was on an easy chair nearby.

But there all resemblance to a cozy family scene vanished. Because Max's hand was exploring the juncture of his sister's thighs. Linda's skirt was hiked up past her waist, allowing Gwen to see the glistening pink lips of her pussy, and the way Max's fingers shone with her juice as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of Linda's cleft. Even as she watched, she turned her head, opening her mouth wide for a long, lover's kiss which her ex-boyfriend was only too happy to return with incredible enthusiasm. Her hips pumped up lewdly, her bald mound circling in mid-air in a fashion which made her groin seem as if it had some sort of terrible, restless hunger, a hunger which could not be satisfied until it had gotten a real good fucking.

And their mother was watching it all with an expression of indulgent satisfaction on her face. One hand rose, unhurriedly unbuttoning her tastefully expensive silk blouse. Lace-covered breasts slowly revealed themselves, and a hand slipped inside, lifting her breast out of the cup. The pink nipple was standing high and hard.

Red fury dropped over Gwen's eyes. Not the fake anger she used with Mary Jane, threatening random acts of violence and cruelty on her little sister that were so obscene that the vice principal of her high school had once called her mother at work after a confrontation in the cafeteria last fall, worried that Gwen needed therapy or counseling. Or perhaps a restraining order of some kind.

No. This was real. And it was personal.

So that's the secret, she raged, as her ex-boyfriend stuck his finger knuckle-deep into his sister's pussy. He's been fucking Linda. That disgusting fucking pervert. No wonder he didn't care when I broke up with him. Why should he, when he was screwing his gorgeous sister?

Before she could stop herself, she was walking across the snow-covered deck. She would not allow this. For too long, she had labored in Linda's shadow. But she wasn't going to hang her head and shuffle away this time. She would confront them all, tell that short-haired, small-titted bitch that Max was hers. She grabbed the handle of the sliding glass door that connected the deck to the house and heaved with all of her strength.

But she didn't count on two things.

First, the door was locked.

Second, a layer of ice was under the snow, lying in wait like a snake in its den. When her furious action failed to have any affect on the door, her feet slid out from under her, and she fell to the deck in a graceless heap.

Three pairs of eyes stared at her through the door. She stared back. Four mouths formed the same two words.

Oh, shit.

"Hello, Gwen," said Max. He stood in the partially-open doorway. "You could have knocked, you know." Behind him, his mother and sister looked on. Linda with an expression of open curiosity untinged by shame or embarrassment. His mother, on the other hand, looked more than a little perturbed, and slowly redid the buttons of her blouse. "Want to come in?"

She swallowed, then stepped across the threshold into the house. Max slid the door closed behind her, then locked it and pulled the blinds closed for good measure, dimming the room.

She spun on him, wishing she was tall or strong enough to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and shake him. "You sick, disgusting fuck," she whispered, grabbing his shirt-front. She leaned close, her pale blue eyes furious. "Your own sister?"

His eyes flickered to one side, as if he was gauging the reaction from his family. As if saying mentally to himself, fuck it, I'm caught, he admitted. "Yeah. And my mom, too."