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==== Kaeleigh Goes All The Way ====

=========== Book 2 ===========

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This is a work of erotic fantasy, so there’s quite a lot of sex. However, there isn’t sex happening in every chapter. There are many passages that include setup, character development, and all that boring stuff which makes the sex that much more meaningful when it finally happens. I know not everyone cares about backstory or getting to know the characters, so each chapter which does have sex in it also has a heart following its title: ♥

The sex is not intended to be pornographic or paraphilic. It’s just the kind of stuff that happens between people, though sometimes in somewhat unusual situations. This includes threesomes and groups, intimacy taking place among people under the age of eighteen (with no one over eighteen present), same-sex partners, and scenes involving brother-sister incest. If you live in the kind of world where you believe those sorts of things never happen, or should never happen, you’re both (1) welcome to stop reading now; and (2) not even remotely in touch with reality in any way at all.

There is cover art for Book 2! It’s non-nude. If you’d like to see it, it’s here on imgbox.com.

Finally, Nifty has been providing some primo material for years now, and can always use a helping hand. Websites aren’t free to operate or maintain, and no one’s getting paid to do any of this. Donate what you can, as you’re able!

Enjoy!

— Harmony Brücke, fricfic at gmail.

Kaeleigh Goes All the Way

Book 2: 2024 • Part I: Pretty Good Privates

1. Never Apart Again ♥

Luke carried the last box inside and set it down with the others, in the second bedroom of the house he lived in off-campus. It wasn’t a bedroom by his floor plan, and still wouldn’t be; it was just a place to put the boxes for now. He’d been using it as a working room, so there was a desk on one wall with his computer atop it, another wall with pine-and-cinderblock shelves piled with books, and several exercise machines along a third. Use it or lose it was the watchword with fitness, and he hadn’t lost it, not by a long shot.

He was in his second year at college now, twenty-one and doing well with his classes, his part-time work, and life. His life just got a hell of a lot better, and the reason for it had to do with the girl — legally, now, a woman — who came with the dozen or so boxes he’d helped carry in. She hadn’t brought much with her, but she didn’t need much, as a twenty-first-century child: Her Mini, her Kindle, and her iPhone and iPad all contained the bulk of her entertainment and education media; that was what she brought with her, along with assorted this-n-that and her wardrobe. And, of course, the thing that really mattered: Herself.

She was five foot six now, and had filled out, but was still quite slim. She worked out too, and had a yoga practice that was glorious to see (particularly when she did it in the nude), and did glorious things for her flexibility (though he tended to lose flexibility in one part of his anatomy, if she was doing it in the nude). There was more roundness to her hips, more fullness to her breasts; she was no longer the pretty but slightly gawky teenager she’d been the first time he made love with her. Now, more than four years later, she was an astonishingly, heartbreakingly beautiful young woman, breathtakingly sexy too, and she was still every bit as much his as she’d ever been.

“Well,” he said, dusting off his hands. He was in a tee and cutoffs, in deference to the early-July heat. She was in a bikini top and very short cutoffs, none of which did anything to lower the temperature in her immediate vicinity. Her legs were still trim and toned, and still quite long, easily making the heady plunge from her tattered hemline all the way down to the ground. His neighbors had been giving her the eye as they unloaded her microscopic Fiat 500e, behavior he thought was amusing and fairly typical of a mid-twenties college graduate crowd. How the hell, he imagined they were all wondering, did Luke get a smoking hot girl like that to move in with him, let alone look at him? (In truth, he wasn’t sure of the answer to that question himself.) “Guess that’s everything.”

“I guess it is,” she said. “Only thing left is the unpacking.”

“Yup. We can start now, if you’d like.”

“Mmm,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Okay, well, we can tour the campus, if you want; I can show you the SU, the quad, where you’ll be going for orientation…”

She smiled and stepped up to him. “Not right now.”

“Oh?”

“I haven’t been with you in two weeks. Minnie’s missing Goofy.”

“That reminds me,” he said, his arms slipping around her trim waist. “Did you bring him?” She nodded up at him, her eyes bedroomy, her smile soft. When she leaned in, her lips were softer. “Mmm,” he sighed. “God, I never get tired of the way you kiss. Go get him and meet me in the bedroom.”

“Why sir,” she said. “Are you being so forward as to ask me to bed, and us just met?”

“Yes,” he said. “But there’s a couple things we need to do first.”

“Oh … all right.” She kissed him again, went to the living room (their living room, now; it was large and had a long couch and roomy, comfortable chairs in it, all ideal for lovemaking, as she well knew), and retrieved the little doll from her bag. Since he’d moved out to go to college two years ago, it had been her constant companion when she couldn’t be with him. They had FaceTime and used it every day, sometimes for something other than conversation, and that was good. He was in other videos she could see, and that also helped. He came back during all the major holidays, and that also was good. She came out to visit for a weekend once a month, and that helped too. They both still played ATW, and there was nothing better than the sweet and total intimacy of those friendships to sustain them.

But even all of that put together was nothing like the daily ecstasies they’d become used to — and spoiled by — after that beautiful week that had begun it all for them. She was looking forward to being spoiled again, and had the feeling it was going to start happening sometime within the next fifteen minutes. She knew him very well, and he knew her; they’d spent almost all their lives together, except for the first three years of his, when she didn’t exist, and the last two of theirs, when she only half-existed, at best.

But they were together again now. Now, and from now on.

She knew the way to the bedroom — she’d been here before, of course — and went past the kitchen/dining down the short hall, past the bathroom, past the door that would ordinarily be the second bedroom but they would not be using for that purpose, to the one at the end of the hall. She opened it to see him standing there, and…

Lights, Christmas lights, colored and white lights, bright little LEDs strung up everywhere, corny and cute and pretty and adorable. He’d painted one wall sky blue in its top two-thirds, grass-green below, and put lights up in patterns: Flowers, butterflies, hearts, billowing white clouds, a smiley-faced vibrant yellow sun, all glowing brightly, and on the next wall, words done in a mix of colors:

WELCOME HOME KAELEIGH

YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD

“You son of a bitch,” she said, her voice wavering, her vision blurring.

“Good to see you too, sis.” She laughed, wiping her cheeks, and he took her hand and led her to the bed (their bed, now), and they sat together on the edge. “Here’s the first thing we need to take care of,” he said, and put something soft and fuzzy into her hands. “I took good care of her.”

“You know she’s not a sock, right?”

“That’s what she kept trying to tell me, too.”

She looked down at the little stuffed Minnie, still smiling as brightly as the day he’d bought it for her. There was a thin gold band around her left arm. She admired it, her heart in her throat, as she handed over Goofy. Both dolls were slightly careworn now, but all that really meant was they’d both been well-loved, petted, held, possibly even cried over a few times in their two-year forced distancing.

Luke pulled the ring off of Minnie’s arm. It was part of a set. He wore the other one, on his left hand. He’d begun wearing it in May, after her eighteenth birthday, as part of their cover, quietly floating the idea that he’d tied the knot with his hometown sweetheart. The story was that she would be moving in with him this summer to attend college, and to live with him thereafter.

It was one of their classic sibling subterfuges, a simple one, truth interwoven heavily with misdirection, and it wasn’t one he had to tell much. Most of the acquaintances he had, if they noticed the ring, didn’t comment, since there was not usually a great deal of mystery hidden in a wedding band. People who did ask didn’t need much detail, because it was such an unremarkable story, such a common one, that only a sketch was necessary before they’d filled in all the particulars in their own minds, and forgot about it. Few of his co-workers saw it, because he didn’t wear it to work; and while they constituted the closest friends he had, they were all unique in not nosing into anyone’s personal affairs. (They had their reasons; the kind of work they did led them to value privacy and discretion.) His employer knew the basic version of the story, but that was because he felt she needed to be told something, along with his assurances that the marriage wouldn’t affect his ability to work.

The claim to marriage was the safest thing for them to do, as well as the easiest; no one would wonder why their last name was the same. But it was also what they wanted to do.

It was funny how things worked out sometimes.

He took her hand. “This is the second thing we need to take care of.” He slipped the ring onto her finger. “With this ring,” he murmured, a little smirk on his lips, “I thee wed.”

She giggled, but her heart was pounding, hard and fast; and she could see by the flush blooming in his cheeks that the same was happening in him. This was all part of their story, part of their cover, and they both knew it; but the act itself, Luke actually putting the ring on her finger, made it real in a way that even having sex with him didn’t. This was their story from now on, but it was more than a story to her. Maybe it had always been more than a story, to her. “I do.” She swallowed. “Luke. I do.”

He knew. He’d known Kay her entire life. He knew what she was saying; he could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. He knew, and she was right. This was right, for her and for him, and what had begun as a smokescreen to protect them from discovery in their new home, what had transformed into a running joke and topic of discussion (“Where do you want to spend our honeymoon, sis?” “Well, not in prison for fucking.”), was now the most real moment of his life. “I do,” he whispered, and kissed her. “I love you. And … I do.”

They held each other close, feeling their hearts thumping. They kissed again.

“Now,” he said when their lips parted, “for the third thing we need to take care of.”

She giggled again as he nuzzled her neck. “I’m sweaty. I haven’t had a shower.”

“When has that ever stopped me?” he breathed, inhaling her, her scent, her skin, her body, her life.

“Oh God,” she sighed. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

“Never again,” he said, helping her out of her top. Her breasts, fuller now than they had been the first time he’d kissed them, were just as warm and soft and precious as they’d always been. “I never want to be away from you again. Not like it’s been. Two years of a weekend a month, getting you for only a couple weeks in summer … I was going insane … oh Kay, oh God, Kay…” He nuzzled the hot little scent-stripes under her arms, drinking her aroma, becoming intoxicated with her, his vision filling with a red haze of need, of passion, of desire. “I love you. I love you so … God so much, there aren’t words…”

“Luke,” she panted. “Luke, I need you so bad so bad baby I need you bro come on come on come on…”

He pushed her back onto the bed, licked his way down her half-naked, writhing body, and stopped only when her thighs clenched around his shoulders, nuzzling her swollen cunt through her cutoffs, nestling his lips against the deep cameltoe. She humped his face, hard, while he bore down against her mound; even the faint scent of her he could catch through the denim was dizzying, sending another searing bolt of lust through his nerves.

She came, fast, and came again, his hands up on her tits, cupping, kneading, tickling the nipples; he felt the wetness spread under his lips as she let go a third time, screaming his name, her hands in his hair, pulling him hard against her, fucking his face. He tore at the snap and zipper, peeled the shorts open to reveal that she wore no panties, also revealing the sex tattoo on her mound, just to the left of her trimmed pubic stripe. The stripe matched the hair under her arms, and the tattoo was a small red heart. She’d got it done on her sixteenth birthday, the summer he’d moved out. It was a promise that love was just inches away, and it was visited over and over again by ATW players, none of whom understood its secret meaning. The love of her flesh was there for anyone, yes, boy or girl. The love of her soul belonged only to one man.

That man kissed the heart now, looking into her eyes as he worked her shorts off. She settled back, naked, and he paused for just a moment to admire the vulva that was his to enjoy, every day, from now on. It was fully developed, ripe and succulent, plump full labia parted to reveal her glistening inner folds, frilly ripples of pink salty-buttery bliss, her clit up, her vestibule open. He inhaled and moaned helplessly; Kaeleigh’s scent, God her scent, her need and her passion, her lust and her love, her musk and her sex. His sister, his lover, his wife. He kissed the little heart again, then went where it directed him. She was strong now, salty and ripe, but he wanted that. He wanted to bury his face in her aroma, in her heat, he wanted to wear her cunt as cologne, and he had it, and he had her flavor, he had her pussy and her love and her cum, spurting, gushing, sluicing over his tongue and down his throat, polishing his cheeks with her desire and fulfillment.

Two weeks. Two weeks since he’d last known this raging passion, when she’d come out for her final pre-move visit. Christ, how he’d missed it. No one fucked like Kay, no one tasted or smelled like her, no one drove him so far into rut as she did.

As he ate his sister’s pussy, Luke tore at his cutoffs, worked them down, and pushed them and his underwear to the floor. She was wringing his shoulders as he worked his shirt up and she stripped it off him, pulled him up, kissed him deep and wet, reaching down between them. He’d grown since he was sixteen and topped out at just over eight inches now, with nearly a two-inch thickness, and she guided all that hot rigid flesh into her, took him in with a whimper of delight, feeling him sink into her center and fill her from rim to cervix. “Fuck me,” she gasped, biting at his earlobe. “God fuck, Luke, fuck the shit out of me, bro…”

He caught her hands and pushed them up, lacing his fingers into hers, and looked into her beautiful grey eyes, looked her in the eye as he began, short and long, deep and hard, fast and slow, taking and taking her, having and having her, giving her what she needed, what he needed to give her. They watched each other fuck, he watched her come, he felt her legs tighten around him, drawing him in deep into her heat, deep into the circle of her love. He kept his eyes on hers, kissing her, tasting her, loving her, and she pulled her hands away from his to draw him close. “Come on,” she gasped. “Come on, bro, come on, boy, give it to me, gimme your cum, gimme everything you got…”

Her breasts rolled under his chest, her hips rocked up against him, and their scent was filling the room, flooding it with their sweat and her fluids, and he shivered, inhaling them, fixated on her, and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t contain it any longer and she did not want him to and he gave her it all, gave her every last pulsing grinding thrusting spurting erg of strength in his body. He erupted inside her, a flood of semen pouring into her flesh, filling her with his cock and his cum and his soul.

They were hoarse as they settled together, panting, staring, touching and kissing and still one, still one.

“More,” she gasped.

“Yeah,” he panted.

She rolled him over and rode him, her perfect body rocking above his, her fingers on his pecs, his abs, his (oh yes) inguinals. He had a sex tattoo as well, on the right side of his cock, near the root, near his groomed pubes. Only they knew that, when they were fucking, their hearts were kissing each other again and again and again. He’d filled out too since the first time she’d had him like this, on an astonishing night on a balcony near Orlando, a dangerous night, a night that could have cost them everything, but won them each other. His shoulders were wide and square now, his chest broad and deep, his abdominals a neat steely washboard. He was all man, and he was all hers, today and tomorrow and from now on.

She had him, she had him, she rode him and fucked him and came all over him, a rain of girlcum flowing out over him, pooling in his navel, running off his torso. It dripped and pattered onto the sheets, leaving a silhouette of his body behind. Her high proud breasts were in his hands and her pussy clenched and sucked at his still-rigid cock. When he was with her, he performed like a thirteen-year-old: Permanently hard, able to come over and over again. But he’d been with an astronomical count of different girls and women, aged from thirteen (before he was eighteen himself) to thirty-six (a current ATW player, the woman for whom he worked, and who sometimes booty-called him; she was bisexual, and looking forward to meeting Kaeleigh and seeing for herself if she was as open-minded and open-marriage as Luke claimed), and he had skills that no thirteen-year-old could ever match. He used them all with her, gave her the ride of her life, as he did every time, every time.

She had another creamy explosion of him, lifted off the bed entirely on the arching power of his back.

When he fell back she climbed up over his face and gave him a treat to eat, swinging around at the same time to study his cock. It was still mostly hard, glistening with her, streaked with him, and she licked it all off, relishing their blend of flavors. She knew every vein, every bump, every pore of his penis, learned it all through hundreds of hours of devoted study, and kissed the tender cap, licked the swollen shaft, lapped at his full, heavy balls. He was getting her there again and again, she was coming all over his face, and as he ate her, she sucked him off, gobbling his cock with unrestricted and endless need. Incredibly, he was still capable; but she’d become used to the incredible when they were together like this. Later, there would be slow love, a gentle and sacred worship that would last an hour or more, but now she had half a month’s worth of pent-up heat and two years of frustration before that, and he was giving her everything that had been built up in him too, and she moaned in completed delight as his flavor, beloved and creamy and rich, swelled into her mouth in deep, warm pulses.

She fell atop him, moaning, sighing, swallowing; she shifted back around again and collapsed into his arms, her immediate thirst slaked, but she knew the heat was building in her again, that it was building in him as well. The room reeked of fuck, cunt and cum and sweat and musk, their bodies, their scents, combining into the heady mist she craved so desperately sometimes, always granted her when he was able. “Luke. Luke, oh God Luke, I love you I love you I love you.”

“Kay,” he panted. “Kaeleigh. I never, ever want to be apart from you again. Not like it was.”

She clung to him. “Never.” She kissed a nipple. “Never, bro. Never again.”

He stroked her bob-cut copper-brass hair. “I love you so much. So much.”

“Well, that’s why you gave me a ring, right? Which means it’s now my wifely duty to see to my dear hubby’s needs.”

“Mmm. I think I’m really gonna like married life.”

“You know I would if we could, right?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And you know I would too. But we have the same last name. We have the rings. We’re already family. No one needs to know anything more.”

“My husband,” she murmured, pulling closer to him, closer and closer. “My lover. My best friend. My husband. My brother.”

“Pervert,” he said.

“No, I fuck all my best friends.”

“Lucky bastards.” She laughed and wriggled when his hand slid down from her shoulders to her full, firm ass. “Speaking of which, have you heard from Trav or Nette lately?”

“He went back to SUNY last week,” she said. “Nette managed to get away from Stanford for a while too.”

“Must’ve been a hell of an old home week.”

“Oh…” She sighed. “Yeah.” They laughed together. “My only, and I mean only, regret was that you couldn’t be there too.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how it goes sometimes. I always wished I could join in with you guys too. Just to see you and Nette together, even once. Or watch Trav fuck you and come in your pussy. I’d eat it out of you, and then I’d blow him.”

“And he’d totally not stop you.” She kissed him. “But now we’re here and together, we’ve got everything we need, and we’re … ready. To start a whole new life together.” She lay her head on his chest again, listening to the sweet beat of his good heart. “As players, only now we’ll be playing in the same game together each week. And as a couple, as husband and wife.”

“How do you like the honeymoon so far?”

“It was everything a blushing virginal bride could wish for.”

“Virginal, huh?”

“Watch it, mister, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

“Man. We’re not even married for an hour, and you’re already wearing the pants?”

“Oh fuck no, you tore those off me right after we swapped vows, remember?”

“I remember … cloth … and thighs … and something about a heart … after that, it’s all kind of a blur. A wet, pink, delicious blur.”

She giggled, reached down, took hold of his penis. It was soft, and was probably going to stay that way for a while. That was all right. She was a little sore right now, too, and it was such a good reason to be so sore. The little red heart peeped at her from near his root. “I’m glad we got these,” she said, tracing its shape with a finger. “Every time I looked in the mirror, or even looked down, I thought about you. It was like having you with me, even when you weren’t.”

“Me too,” he said. “But Minnie also helped with that.”

“Did you use her a lot?”

He snorted. “I’d drown the poor thing on the first round.”

“True,” she conceded.

“But she looked really good taped to the end of my fleshlight.”

She gaped at him. “You didn’t.”

He smiled. “Got you.”

“Ass. Remind me again why I agreed to marry you?”

“Because you’re insane?”

“I must be,” she said, and lay her head on him again. “I’m the only girl crazy enough to be your sister, after all.”

“Thank Goddess,” he sighed.

“You’re welcome.” She lay with him, looking around at all the lights he’d put up to welcome her, looking at the message he’d written in glowing truth on the wall, just for her. Her very own electrical parade. “How long did it take you?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you painted, and you put up all those lights, and they’re … you know, coordinated, I mean the sun is all yellow and orange, the hearts are pink, the roses are all red, the irises are purple and blue and the leaves are all green … and I know those strings usually come with the lights all mixed around on them … it must’ve taken you hours to get them all switched around. Days.”

“I didn’t have much to do with my free time, apart from think about you. So I decided to do something about it.” She felt him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I missed you, Kay.”

“I missed you too.” Her voice was wavering again, and her vision had blurred again, too.

“Don’t start,” he said. “You’ll have us both blubbering. We should be happy now.”

“I am happy, you big hunky hot steamy great fuck of a dork. This is the happiest day of my life.” She kissed his chest and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Can’t you tell by the poetry of my language?”

He chuckled and stroked away her tears for her. It was beautiful to cry and to have him there to comfort her. She hadn’t had that for too long, and leaving him, going back home to sob into her pillow half the night, was always brutal. Some days she wasn’t sure she’d be able to make it to graduation, but he was always there at the other side of that impossible gulf of time, helping her close it day by day with FaceTime, little texts all through the day, continually reminding her that they may be many hundreds of miles apart, but it wouldn’t be forever.

He put an arm behind his head, showing off a hell of a set of biceps, and some sexy hairs, too. (Some. He manscaped for work.) “I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad … I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you were born. Of all the girls in the world, all four billion of them, I can’t believe how lucky I got that you’re my sister.”

“Neither one of us really deserved this kind of luck, did we?”

“No,” he said. “This isn’t luck. We earned it. We worked for it. We … we could’ve lost each other. But we decided to change that, and look what we found.”

“I think it was always there,” she murmured. “We just had to let it come out, is all.”

He thought about that for a while. “Yeah. You may be right. But then, you usually are.”

“Mmm. Good thing you realize it.” She folded her arms over his chest and propped her chin on them, looking up into his handsome face, his warm brown eyes. “You know, a girl is always supposed to look forward to her wedding day. There were times when I wondered what it would be like. And it sure wasn’t anything like this.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m with the man I love, and I’m full of his sperm, and I know I always will be with you, from now on. I know we can’t do it with a gown and a tux. So … yeah, my wedding didn’t happen the way I imagined when I was a little girl. But then, my first time having sex didn’t either, and that was also wonderful. So I figure I’m still ahead, even without the gown and tux. Besides, you’d have to shave your legs, and I look like shit in black.”

He put his arms around her and drew her close. “I never really thought about getting married. It’s not usually a guy thing to do, I guess. But after we talked about the cover story … well … it was on my mind. I guess…” He kissed the top of her head. “I guess, in a way, I’ve been engaged to you for three years, ever since you first thought of it. I knew I’d be pretending we were married, at least. And when I was doing all this with the lights, I realized there really wasn’t anyone else I wanted to be with for the rest of my life anyway. It really drove the point home. So I guess … I guess I’m saying it’s not really a cover story for me, any more, and … I didn’t know how my wedding would go either. But there’s just no way it could be better than it is. I love you, Kay, and you have me now, and you always will.”

“Oh Luke.” She caressed his skin. It was silky under her fingers, smooth; he’d never been a very hairy boy, and he still wasn’t a very hairy man. To her, that was just right. To her, everything was just right. “Me too. Always, always and forever, my love. My husband. My … everything. I love you.”

“I love you too, honey.”

She snorted. “Honey?”

He shrugged “We’re married now.”

“Honey,” she said, and rolled her eyes.

“Yeah.” He stroked her cheek, her shoulder, her skin. “Honey. Darling. And sweetheart. And lover. And babe. Good lady wife. My better half. The missus. The little woman. The old ball and—”

“Watch it, buster.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Well,” she sighed, “I guess this whole marriage thing’ll take some getting used to for both of us.”

“We’ll manage,” he said as she laid her head on his chest again. “We always do. At least we won’t have any trouble remembering our anniversary.”

“True,” she said. Today was the Fourth. “Are we going to the fireworks tonight?”

“We’ve done pretty well making our own, haven’t we?” He kissed the top of her head. “There’s some in the park, about a quarter mile away. We can go, or watch from the roof, if you want.”

“And make love while they’re going off?”

“You know me so well,” he said, caressing her shoulder. “Obviously we had no choice but to get hitched. There’s Champagne in the fridge, too. I figured we’d be in the mood to celebrate.”

“But I’m not old enough to drink.”

“You’re a married woman now, living in your own house with your husband. I think you’re allowed to bend a rule or two.”

“Only one or two?”

“Per day. Per day. It’s important to pace yourself.”

“Well, I figure I’ll already be breaking the law every time we go to bed from now on, and I was planning to break it at least three or four times a night. But I guess you know best, dear.”

“If I did, that’d be a change. I suppose I can survive a crime spree a day.”

“That’s what you get for hooking up with an ATW girl.”

He chuckled, the sound resonating through his chest, and then there was the quiet susurration of his breathing, the gentle steady pulse of his heart. She let her eyes drift closed, surrounded by his arms, by his scent and hers, by the glowing little wedding-gift he’d made for her, contented and at peace, contented and at home.