Who cares

You know it's your mother - and you have plans for her later - but someone a little closer to your age would be more suitable for your first time. Your little sister Dana seems to fit the bill.

Could you fuck her? **** her? Yes, the voice in your head said you could. That you should. Perhaps you were mad. Only one way to find out.

You had an old fetish last year of sniffing Dana's panties (and your mother's), and when Dana found you one lone afternoon in a compromising position, she began locking her doors and was more weary around you. So, of course, you figured out how to quickly jimmy her door open.

That's what you did, after tiptoeing past the bathroom, the shower masking any sound of the break-in from your father's ears as he finished getting dressed for work.

You locked the door behind you and stared at your prey. She was asleep, but shallowly, as you peeled off your boxers and approached with a raging hard-on as a divining rod. The morning sun invaded your personal space, giving the whole neighborhood, or at least your sister's Peeping Tom admirers, access to the scene of her ****.

She stirred, so you jumped into action, placing a hand over her mouth and one over her throat, **** her firmly every time she attempted to scream or fight back.

"Shhh..." you said, menacingly. "I'm just here to **** you," you whispered into her ear. She visibly, perhaps involuntarily, relaxed, pretty much confirming the voice in your head. A sickening smile widened as your thoughts remained on carnal pleasures.

"I didn't know you wanted to be a ****," she said in a normal tone as you removed one hand to rip off her panties. Her trimmed bush exposed, you tightened your grip on her throat and punched her in the stomach, before beginning a gentle exploration of her vagina for ease of entry.

"Quiet," you said, after the punch. "I don't want mom or dad to interrupt us."

She at least whispered this time, her voice getting hoarse from the occasional strangulation, "I don't think they care if you want start **** people. Or just me."

You just stared at her menacingly as you held her throat a bit loosely, and kicked her legs easily apart. You prodded your member at her doorway and both winced in pain at the mostly dry reception.

"Fuck, that smarts," Dana says, her voice still soar. She's clearly in a lot more pain than you are, as you notice a new type of lubrication assisting in the activity. Virgin blood.

You look at her curiously, and she just shrugs. "I was saving myself for my boyfriend."

"You don't have a boyfriend anymore, cunt!" you say, raising your voice a little too loudly this time, before quieting down as you continued to pound into your deflowered damsel. Her face is in agony, but yours is finally in ecstacy as you plateau from your high and prepare to cum.

She takes it all, your full dick and all its pertinent contents as you rip down her tank top and a streak of her own blood goes from your hand to her small breasts. You collapse on said chest as she just pants and bites her tongue from the pain she must feel. You roll out of her ravaged rug and look into her eyes. Not fear, not disgust. Just pain and... annoyance?

"Is that all?" she asks to your dumbstruck expression as the door opens up.

"Honey, can I borrow your..." your mother stands there, wrapped only in a bath towel as she sees the damage on Dana's person and bed. The clear **** marks around her neck. The blood and cum oozing from her open vagina. The streaks of blood from her torn open tank top. And the culprit, you, clearly lying next to her showing all signs of having done the worst act imaginable.

"Huh," she said, realizing her son was a ****.