Bread and Butter

Breakfast was welcomed. Three very close members of the family now sat around the kitchen table, fully clothed once again, and hungrily ate the simple breakfast a somewhat exhausted mother had prepared. Some warmed flatbread, some eggs, some butter. Everyone was quite happy to just be fed, the smells of the food still being prepped for later tonight lingering in the air around them.

“I would really prefer if you rested for the day, Fareeha,” your mother told your sister, who was gulping down a glass of regular milk. “The work for dinner is mostly handled and I don’t want to see you on your feet. At least not until the next prayer...”

You smiled to yourself. Neither of them were likely to be ‘on their feet’ when prayer time came again.

“Maybe I’ll spend some quality time with my little brother then,” your sister considered idly, running a finger around the rim of her glass. “Watch some TV together on the couch maybe like when we were little?” The offer was made with a leering smile and you swallowed your bread which had become strangely dry. “Unless you’re planning on just sticking your nose in scripture all day,” she sighed, aware of her brother’s changed, if admirable, priorities. “But doesn’t the Quran recommend you stick that nose into other places every once in a while? Warm and wet places...”

Your mother coughed and you laughed. Fareeha always had that sisterly habit of teasing you when you were growing up, but now there was another side to it that had you grinning. It was like she was flirting with you, and even in a joking way it was a level of inappropriateness she never would have attempted before. Especially not in front of your mother.

“When did you become so…” the concerned matron started, but had to think about her reaction then her tone seemed to shift mid-sentence. “...religious. ”

Fareeha stroked the top of her pregnant belly and looked between her family members.

“I’m very nearly about to pop, Umi,” she said to her mother. “I’ll need as much of Allah’s Light blessing us as I can get.” Her eyes, half lidded, came back to you. “ I’ll take as much of Ahyan’s holy blessings as he can give me.”

“Of course of course,” your mother conceded, shifting focus onto her plate. She was smiling too, the twisted logic now a ready comfort for the woman. That her daughter was eager to ‘be holy’ with her son, even between prayers, was a good sign. “But please don’t make a mess on the couch,” she thought to add.

“Tell me more… recite some more scripture to me, brother,” Fareeha breathed before going back to kiss your neck. You groaned but managed to find your voice.

“Sex is a gift from Allah, to be shared with your loves. It shall bear no sin, nor when the son demands it should it be refused… for fornication is... blessed!” She liked to use her teeth. “Adultery is not sin… when performed by the son…” you said, amazed at your memory for some random passages in the Quran, but then again you did write them. Your sister did her best in trying to distract you, her lips on your collarbone, her hand down your pants. She had you swollen and throbbing before you even made it to the couch.

“Always about the son isn’t it? Or the brother… mmm…” your sister hummed, her pussy soaking around your fingers. You noted a hint of suspicion in her voice, shaky with lust as it was. “Aren’t I lucky that my little brother is such a hottie?”

She brought both hands up now to take your face and kiss your lips. Hers tasted like butter and her tongue was warm and wet. She left you gasping and gave your hanging mouth a few extra licks. “What does the Quran say about kissing siblings again?” she wondered coyly, then nibbled your mouth.

“Kissing… good…” was all you could manage at this point. Your altering of the text had really unleashed something in your sister. Maybe her imbalance of hormones was something to do with it too but you weren’t going to question it. She seemed to have questions of her own though.

“What about... fathers and daughters?” she asked then, kissing you again for good measure as she snaked her hand back down and wrapped her fingers around your cock. She grunted as you dug your own knuckles up deeper into her dripping cunt. You curled them to reach and rub her **** spot and she shuddered. She had to lean back a bit, partially resting against the couch, the lewd, pink expressions of her face a joy to watch as you thought about her query. While you hadn’t forbade other male members of your family from engaging in holy congress with the women in it, at least not in any explicit fashion, the priority afforded to the son, that is, yourself, had been clear and prominent. You were barely two steps shy of being a prophet by this point.

“Why do you ask?” You wanted to coax more out of your sister, just like you were coaxing the liquid arousal from her hot, oozing sleeve. She took a few deep breaths, her hand still gripping your meat but not picking up the stroke yet, and collected her muddled thoughts.

“It’s just… Baba could be … more involved with the whole… blessing thing,” she said, not quite stammering but she sounded nervous between her erotic pants. “Won’t it be more holy… if Baba could share in .. the sex? … Sex with his daughter… Unnnn... Ahyan that’s the spot… don’t stop don’t ever stop…”

You leaned in to kiss her and she moaned against your mouth. Her pussy juice ran down your arm as you made her quiver, the heat of her belly against your torso. It was more important to bring your sister to this soft, squealing orgasm before answering her question, you decided. You kept that pressure and she continued to cum and moan in her open, slutty way. In the middle of the day. With her brother on the couch knuckle deep in her pussy.

“You want Baba to fuck you?” you ask, watching her sleepy face as her body recovered in small, shivering intervals.

“I… want to fuck Baba… I want to fuck you… I want to fuck Umi…” she said, almost singsong, and you didn’t miss that she missed mentioning her husband. The morning’s exertions appeared to finally catch up with her now and her grip on you slackened, fingers falling away from your groin. You let her lay her head back, pulled your own fingers out of her leaking slit. Of course, you fed those dirty fingers to her as she began to doze off. She licked and sucked on them slowly, clearly enjoying her own slimy flavours. “Mmmmm… if I knew coming back home would be so nice… and my brother would be so wise... mmm… mmhmmmm...” and she drifted into a nap without finishing the thought. Who was this woman? You thought you knew your sister… an energetic and protective older sibling with a bit of a cheeky streak, but apparently she was also a horny, needy slut that wanted her brother’s and cock and her dad’s. And Umi, of course. You would have to think about what you would let her have and whether you needed to make more changes to the Quran.