The Dorić Diaries

"Do you want to do it?" I asked, stroking her face.

"Yes ... but I'm scared," she replied, her voice like that of a frightened girl.

"I won't hurt you, Krissy; I promise ... if it hurts, I'll stop, okay?"

She didn't reply but nodded her head, her large eyes gleaming in the dark like shimmering saucers.

I reached down in between us and tugged at her underwear. Her lingerie had bunched up above her waist so it wasn't in the way and while I struggled with her panties, she wiggled her bottom helping me to ease them off of her. Then sitting up, she pulled her nightie over her head and threw it to the side before lying back again. She was now totally naked.

I had seen her threadbare and stripped, au natural, while bathing in the river but that was a while back. Gone were the boyish, flat lines of the little girl and in its place, the sensual curves of a pubescence. I could see the dark silhouette of her breasts rising up from her body, small firm mounds with nipples that were puckered and hard augmenting the taper at the narrow waist then flaring out again to rounded hips and the gentle slope of her abdomen disappearing into the dark recess within the V of her thighs. It was here that the treasures of her delicious, pink slit lay.

I crawled back in between her legs and laid on top her, unsure of what I was doing or how I was going to initiate our mating. Confused by instinct and memory and driven by lust, I tried pushing my cock into her but it slid up her slit and lay nestled between us pressing against her lower abdomen. Embarrassed and frustrated, I tried again, moving back up and thrusting down, aiming blindly, hoping that I would find her hole. But I missed and my cock slithered over her sparse, downy patch and lay trapped against her belly, throbbing in time to my heartbeat like a pulsing, rubber hose.

We lay still for a while, our hearts drumming together and then I grabbed her hand, guiding it in between us, and felt her fingers take a hold of me.

"Put me inside, baby ..." I groaned and felt her guide the tip into her slit, "Oh, God ... you feel so hot ... slippery ..."

I pushed slowly like I had seen Petar do and felt her petals open up a little then her cunt pulsed, stretching tightly around the head of my cock and the next thing I knew, I was in her, swallowed up by the gulping lips of her vagina. She let out a sigh, much softer than Sasha's initial cry, and buried her face into my shoulder. I began pushing slowly into her again and felt her opening up further; her virgin pathway, convulsing hotly around my shaft, drawing me deeper and deeper into her. I waited, thrilling in these incredible new sensations and felt my cock flex and throb deep inside her belly.

I kept sliding in, a little at a time until I felt the tip pressing against a barrier, something that was rubbery and pliable. And, provoked by some obtuse primordial need that precluded any consideration for my little sister, I thrust my hips, pushing hard, almost violently into her. I felt the membrane tear and then I was in her, all the way in her, buried down to the base of my penis.

My sister let out a muffled cry of surprise and then was still, her thighs squeezing tightly against my hips. I lay unmoving on top of her waiting for our bodies to adjust before rocking back and forth, sliding my body up and down while trying to build up a rhythm. I felt her hips bucking back up at me and increased the length of my strokes pumping my cock in and out of her tight, little box. I could feel her body responding, wracked by subtle, little tremors and heard her making soft, mewling sounds.

My ears were filled with the music of her moans, the rustle of sheets and the slapping of our bodies; a virtual concerto of sensuality that accompanied the muffled squeaking of the bed. And as my mind began to blackout with the onslaught of orgasm, all I could think of was that this act could never be undone and that it would be my cum that would anoint my sister's burgeoning sexuality and that she and I were fused forever as one: Kristina ... oh, baby, Krissy, Krissy ...

The Obsession

A very important part of our weekly schedule was selling our produce at the Market Square -- a Farmer's Market of sorts. The market was located in the center of town, set on a raised, rectangular platform bordered by access roads on all four sides. The roads were flanked by apartment buildings, stores and restaurants, many of which used the market for supplies. It was a symbiotic association that worked well for all concerned -- the farmers had local customers and the restaurants had access to the freshest of produce.

The red tiled roof was supported by four massive pillars, one in each corner and further buttressed by wooden columns on the longer leg of the rectangle. It was open on all sides to allow for a cross breeze and sufficient ventilation. The layout of the market was planned so that the meats and vegetables vendors were on opposite sides with the center allocated for grains and patisserie goods. Since we sold both, vegetables and meats, our stall was on the border of the Meat and Grain section. The stall was my grandfather's and his father before that so to us it was more than just a location from which to sell our goods, there was a sense of pride associated with our ancestry.

Sasha's presence at our stall was not without an underlying strategy. Not only was she a good sales person but she was there to attract the customers to our stand, many of whom were men, and with whom she flirted quite openly. She did this within the boundaries of acceptable, social norms. Her adept teasing often engaged the women, drawing them into the risqué repartee to make sure that they never felt left out or threatened. The strategy always worked and though our prices for the homemade pies, yogurt, cheese, bread, preserves and pastry were a premium, it was a rare day when we did not sell out.

The men, rather than disappoint her, would invariably buy something and the women, who spent more time asking her for beauty tips, would end up buying things in exchange for the advice she gave them. Petar and I were there to haul the heavy stuff and act as a deterrent to the occasional overzealous drunk.

There was only one incident some months back that I can recall where we had to intervene. It had to do with a slightly inebriated admirer which ended painfully for the unfortunate man. Petar, who was quiet by nature, had repeatedly and politely requested the man to leave our sister alone but the big oaf wouldn't let it go. In an act of bravado to impress his friends and his mind dulled by alcohol, he grabbed Sasha and tried to kiss her.

"Come on, one kiss ... just one kiss ... my pretty, little Ruskie ..." he babbled.

"Let me go ... what are you doing? Let me go, you big idiot!" She hissed angrily, struggling against the big man, trying to push him back while tuning her face away from him.

I stood rooted unable to react but noticed a blur to the side and in a millisecond, Petar was on him. He had leapt over the table and grabbed the bigger man by his hair. He jerked the man's head backwards while twisting his arm behind his back, all in one quick motion.

"Let her go!" Petar snarled menacingly, wrenching the man's arm upwards.

The torque of the diametrically opposing forces on the shoulder made the big man wince in pain. His back arched awkwardly and he let go of Sasha almost immediately. At that point, as far as Petar was concerned, it was over -- he pushed the stranger away from him and turned to get back behind the table.

"Are you okay?" he asked Sasha who nodded and smiled.

But alcohol often repeals reason and instead of leaving well enough alone, the stranger made the mistake of grabbing Petar. That aggressive gesture sealed his fate. It was over so quickly that if you blinked you would have missed it. A single punch ended the incident. Petar hit him squarely on the chin and put him to sleep and I mean literally.

I later found out that the blow had fractured the man's jaw in three places, a painful price to pay for a moment's indiscretion. And that was the last time anyone thought of touching Sasha while Petar was around. They flirted with her and bought stuff from her and some of the braver souls even asked her out, but no dared lay a finger on her again, that is, until Lucian Dragovic.

*******

Lucian Dragovic

It was a Tuesday and as was his weekly ritual, Lucian strolled through the market square with his assistant, Andro Bogdanic. They made a conspicuously odd couple by virtue of their physical disparity. Andro Bogdanic was a short man, almost a foot shorter than Lucian, and he was grossly overweight with a belly that tested the resilience of his shirt buttons and hung ponderously over his belt. He had a nervous personality, fidgeting compulsively, often twirling the end of his tie while tugging on his oversized mustache. He walked with a peculiar rolling gait characterized by short, choppy steps and he suffered from Hyperhidrosis, a glandular disorder which caused him to sweat profusely. His physician had advised him to take some time off to get his weight and blood pressure under control but like most people, he had given up on diets and exercise choosing rather to let nature run its course while indulging his unhealthy lifestyle.

To compound matters, his anxiety level increased exponentially whenever he was with his boss, a fact that could be attributed solely to his fear of Lucian. He was not just frightened but terrified of the Director. The man reminded him of a vulture constantly probing and stalking, looking for a weakness; circling for a carcass to hone in on. He felt a chill run through him at the very thought of falling into Lucian's disfavor. He knew that the slightest hint of disrespect or suspicion could result in a fate worse than death and with that in mind, he made sure to do whatever the Director had asked of him without questioning the motive. Over the past year, he had become quite expert at anticipating his boss' needs but found himself in a conundrum. Lucian was beginning to depend on him to a much larger extent and that meant spending more time together which in turn raised the fat man's anxiety level to the point where he was losing sleep. Something had to give and Bogdanic was worried sick over it.

However, the Tuesday walkabouts were becoming less stressful because he knew exactly what the Director was looking for. What he couldn't know was that their entire world was about to get turned on its head and all because of a woman, albeit a strikingly beautiful woman!

This day began as usual - they stopped randomly at the stalls and talked to the vendors to make sure that the products being sold at their stands were officially sanctioned by his office. The vendors, many of whom were poor farmers, would have to produce the certificate with the official seal, authorizing them to sell government subsidized goods and if a vendor did not have the authorization, he was hit with a fine or several fines depending on the circumstance. Most of the fines were meted out at the Director's whim. It was a game in which the farmer and his family ran the risk of losing everything that made the decision to compromise and accept the offer to settle quiet appealing. This was the real reason for the Tuesday ritual; taking names and adding it to a growing list of people whom Lucian could manipulate.

The first time Sasha saw Lucian her reaction was much like Bogdanic's; a shiver ran down her spine, like someone had walked over her grave. His very appearance was eerie, exuding an aura so cold that she felt the premonition of death. His narrow shoulders made him seem even taller than he was; a sticklike caricature with a skull for a head. His long, thin neck, the prominent Adam's apple, his beady eyes, lipless mouth and bloodless pallor gave him an expression that reminded her of a walking cadaver. 'God, what a strange, frightening man,' she thought to herself. She quickly looked away and bent down behind the stand to plate more of the homemade pie hoping that he hadn't noticed her but he had. His reptilian eyes had latched on to her the moment he walked into the square.

Lucian, on the other hand, was struck by Sasha's allure; enamored by the vivacious nymph whose beauty and smile filled up the room. He had seen her a few times before today but she always ignored him and she was rarely there on Tuesdays. Saturday was the day we were normally at the market. This Tuesday was an exception. We were here only because Papa had shot and butchered a wild boar over the weekend and there was plenty of meat to sell off.

There was a small crowd at our stall tasting and buying flavored yogurt, meat pies, smoked ribs and pastries when Lucian and his assistant, Andro Bogdanic, arrived at the counter. Almost everyone knew of Lucian and either out of fear or respect they stepped aside letting them through to the front. As soon as Sasha spotted them, she smiled warmly and came over to the fat man, ignoring Lucian.

"Hello, sir, would you care to taste the best meat pies and pastry in all of Suza?" she asked offering the shorter man a plate of the sampler.

"We would like that very much and by the way, Miss, this is your lucky day," the assistant replied, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and tugging nervously at his mustache, "here with me is the Director of Farmland Affairs, my boss, Mr. Lucian Dragovic!"

The last bit was delivered with an exaggerated flourish and a shallow bow towards the tall, thin, strange-looking man and with that Bogdanic took a deferential position, stepping back and allowing his boss the pride of place.

Sasha looked up at Lucian and gave him a quick, nervous smile but before she could turn away he reached for a piece of the sampler.

"I will try a piece. And, if I may have your name, Miss?" Lucian asked before popping the little hor D'oeuvre into his mouth. Beautiful women always made him nervous.

She watched him chewing, captivated by the striations of his jaw muscles as they danced prominently on the sides of his face. She noticed every microscopic detail; his Adam's Apple, bobbing up and down when he swallowed, the hooked nose, thin slash of a mouth, the receding chin. She took it all in with the same fascination one would have for a dangerous snake but she found that the accompanying fear had rendered her mute with fright.

"What is your name, Miss?" Bogdanic repeated his jowls quivering as he fumbled with his tie.

"Sasha. Sasha Dorić," She stuttered turning quickly to where Petar was standing.

"And where are you from, Miss. Dorić?" the Director persisted, his face expressionless while his eyes took in the perfect form of this angel reincarnate.

But it was Petar who stepped in sensing Sasha's plight and got in between her and the Director.

"I'm Petar Dorić and our farm is in Suza but north, closer to Zmajevac," he said stepping up to the counter.

"Your wife makes a very tasty pastry, Mr. Dorić." Lucian said studying Petar, the tip of his tongue flicking out nervously to wet his mouth.

"She is my sister," Petar corrected tersely.

"My mistake, I apologize," he offered, ignoring the tone and obviously thrilled by the news, "I like the pies and will send someone to pick up a few."

He turned and was about to leave when he stopped and then deliberately turned back towards Petar, his neck craning forward like that of a stork.

"Mr. Dorić, do you have a Vendor Certificate to sell these produce here?" He quizzed.

There was a short pause while the two men took stock of each other.

"I don't need a certificate, Director, you see, we do not take subsidies from the Regional or Central Offices. We do not take anything from anyone. We are free men not beholden to any man or state," Petar replied, his voice brimming with the fierce pride of his ancestors.

"Ah, that puts you in a very small minority, Mr. Dorić, and a very privileged one indeed!"

Petar didn't reply but stood staring at the taller man, his eyes unwavering and I saw the Director look away, slowly inching back, unable to control his abhorrence for confrontation then he turned and smiled at Sasha as a show of defiance before making his way towards the exit.

Lucian hated this; being shown up in public and that too by a peasant. He despised men like Petar Dorić; men who were proud, unafraid and ready to take a stand for a cause -- even if it was a losing one. But he appeased himself with the fact that by virtue of their often impetuous nature, men like Petar were easy to deal with and his mind began formulating a plan as he made his way through the pressing throngs.

"I will check the file, Mr. Dragovic. I will make sure that their papers are in order and if not, I will take the appropriate action. You can count on that!" Bogdanic said loudly calling after his boss, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"Check all you want, fat man. You will not find anything ... and if you do, come and see me," Petar said. There was no mistaking the threat in his voice.

"There will be no need for that, Mr. Dorić. May I call you Petar?" he said, his voice dripping with honey and then prattled on quickly, "If there is anything, any oversight that requires attention, Petar, I will take care of it personally. I will come back for the pies, Miss Dorić. Please have them packed," Andro Bogdanic smiled, fidgeted, and bowed and then chased after his boss, waddling like a duck on his thick, stubby legs.

We watched the strange couple pushing through the teeming crowd until they were engulfed and lost in its immense anonymity.

"Screw them. I'm not giving that bastard anything. Let's go. We are almost done here and I'll be damned if we're going to wait around for them." Petar said and pulled Sasha to him, "Are you okay, little sister? Don't let him scare you."

"Why would I be scared of anyone when you are here, dear brother?" she smiled broadly and hugged him back.

They stood for a while, wrapped around each other like lovers, oblivious of the others watching them and unashamed of their love.

*******

Tempting Fate

After that night when we first made love Kristina and I would steal away, every chance we got, to some secluded spot and fuck like bunnies. We were both getting better at pleasing the other and both of us were really into it, especially oral sex. We would spend hours locked in a sixty-nine, lying inverted sucking, stroking, fingering and licking until we were near exhaustion. I just loved to make her cum. My baby sister was born hyper-erotic, blessed with the ability to have multiple orgasms and it thrilled me to no extent to watch her writhe and buck as I sucked on her little clit. However there was a problem and it was that Krissy couldn't get enough. She was beginning to act impulsively, throwing caution to the wind and ignoring the obvious risks. She made no secret of wanting sex at any time and anywhere and her unpredictable spontaneity almost got us caught several times.

Our mother seemed oblivious to the subtle change in our relationship. She didn't seem to notice the exchanging of glances, secretive smiles, the surreptitious touching and groping whenever we passed each other in the kitchen or dining room. And she didn't seem to think it strange that we were leaving to go 'fishing' almost every day but rarely if ever caught any fish.

But I sensed that Laura and Sasha were beginning to get suspicious and of a substantially greater concern was Papa; he had questioned Kristina several times about her whereabouts; something that he had never done in the past. I was a bit worried but like everything else in her life, Kristina treated this as though it was a game.

One day, a week later while I was in the barn cleaning out the stalls, she came up behind me and hugged me from the back her hand snaking down my abdomen to my crotch and rubbing my cock through my trousers. I knew that Papa and Petar were up in the loft redoing the wiring to his room but before I could fend her off or warn her, my father leaned over the barrister and called down.