The Martial Artist: Cougars and Sisters (ePub)

:DESCRIPTION
Wyatt is a martial artist who likes to push the envelope—he thinks fucking cougars is hot, especially when he’s had the woman’s daughter, although fucking the mother first is okay too; his sister Twyla enjoys men that are as big and bad as her brother. Neither of them likes rules very much. They push them until they break. It's a combination made for erotic trouble.

:EXCERPT
“Vic texted me last night. Now that I signed the contract, she’s gone into action. She’s setting up my first real pro fight with that Mexican guy that’s supposed to be up and coming.”

“Until you knock his ass on the mat,” she said, smiling.

“My biggest fan,” I said.

She reached under my robe and found my cock. We heard some cries and groans coming from our parent’s bedroom. “Now there is an idea,” she said. “Have time for fun this morning?”

“Not much,” I said. “I’ve got Carly idling upstairs.”

She grinned. “I have about that much time too.” She stood up and hiked up the hem of her dress. She wasn’t wearing any panties. She bent down over the table; she reached for the butter, dipped her fingers in it and reached back to lube her asshole. I stroked my cock as I watched her butter her anus, shoving a finger in.

“Oh God, Don,” Mom cried out from the next room. That did it. I stood up, got behind my little sister and, as she spread her ass cheeks apart, drove my cock into that welcoming hole. Twyla began fingering herself as I fucked her ass, leaning over her and holding the table. Her mouth was open and she panted. Then she was coming, stifling her own cries. Her orgasm made her ass grip my cock and I came. When I finished pumping it into her, I moved up, straddling her body, and dribbled cum on her cheek.

She smiled and I got back down, then went back upstairs to dress and get Carly, thinking life was pretty fucking good.

“Ready to go?” I asked her.

She nodded. She’d put on a pair of shorts and slip on shoes.

One thing I was liking about Carly was that she seemed to understand what I wanted. She did what I said and didn’t ask questions, like where I was taking her. I think she was getting the picture that if she wanted to be with me, be a regular fuck, she’d do what she was told and not ask much.

Our destination was a tattoo parlor I’d learned about from a biker who worked out in the gym. He’d gotten some impressive tattoos there. You wouldn’t know it from the outside. It was pretty seedy and it had a reputation for being the kinkiest place in town. Irene, the lady that owned the place was in her thirties, too skinny, and covered in tattoos. She had long, scraggly blonde hair and rings in her ears, nose, and lips, not to mention her navel. She wore shorts and a tank top that showed the belly. She was kind of a freak show but still sexy.