Stories About Sisters Novels & Stories

What had they said just now? Bed-crawler, marriage-thief, lowborn trash, little lover. Now the memory projection showed it plainly. That wasn't a woman sneaking into a carriage. That was a brother picking his little sister up to bring her home. Sylvia said coldly, "Vera. Sister of Theron, heir to the Divine Court. The youngest sister Drake raised himself. And one of the two twin ruined-bloods who sacrificed most of their divine blood for us when the star sea collapsed." She looked at Orson again. "Orson. Her twin brother, and the other one who made that sacrifice. The fool of a lover you all spoke of is the Divine Court's own brother, the brother the three of us owe our lives to."

“I told you this would happen!” Waitㅡ what?! I struggled to form words. “Wait, I can explain. She's lying!” His mum stepped forward, fury written across her face. “Is it not enough? The havoc and the rumors you've spread against your own sister?!” She seethed, voice harsh. I took a step back, struggling to form words. “Youㅡ That's not what happened, hear me outㅡ she's lying to you all! She cheated on Alpha Orionㅡ”

"No, you're not." "Yes, I am." "Jane, we don't share parents. We don't share blood. We don't share DNA." "So?" "So that means you're not my sister!" "That's not what sister means." "What does sister mean then?" "Sister means the person who grew up with you. Sister means the person who knows all your secrets. Sister means the person who would do anything for you." "Would you do anything for me?" "Yes." "Then where were you when Dad died?"

“But sisters do moan like desperate little sluts in heat, begging their big brother to fuck them harder. Sisters spread their legs wide open and cry for their brother’s thick cock to stretch their tight pussy until they’re sobbing with pleasure.” Her face flushed deep red. Her pulse quickened under my fingers as I slowly fastened each button, trapping her in my scent. “Sisters don’t just let their brother take their first time,” I continued, voice dropping lower, “they don't beg for it. They don't claw at his back, wrap their shaky legs around his waist, and scream his name while he ruins them. Sisters don’t just take their brother’s cock, they don't squirm and whimper like needy whores, mil

It started small and built into something real — genuine, unguarded, the off-key shower laugh that nobody in the world was supposed to know about, filling the hospital room at nine in the morning — and Irina started laughing too because what else were you going to do and they sat there, the two Sabalenka sisters, one of them six weeks out of a coma and one of them pregnant by the other one's fiancé, laughing in a hospital room in Atlanta like two people who had been through the absolute most and had landed, somehow, still together. When it settled Anna wiped her eyes and looked at her sister and said: "Tell me everything. From the beginning. Leave nothing out." So Irina did.

Five minutes later, I was too busy reading the story to care. So now we were sharing sibling incest stories. We tried some others in the category, too. But the mom/son, dad/daughter ones creeped both of us out. We did OK with cousins. But for us, clearly, brother/sister incest was best. In story form, anyway. Especially the ones where the sister got pregnant at the end. We shared other stories, but more and more I was seeing a steady diet of sibcest. Better (worse), I'd become accustomed to all of it. Like slipping into the pool step-by-step, by the time I was underwater I was used to the temperature. I don't think either of us realized the danger we were putting ourselves in.

I sighed and sat down beside him. "Pancakes?" He asked pushing his plate towards me. I shook my head. "No thanks." He chewed on the food quickly and happily. "So what did you hear yesterday?" I asked. He gleamed like he had been waiting for this question all his life. He gulped down a drink beside him. "Well, they are sisters," he said. I nodded to urge him on. "They spent their time talking about memories and childhood," he said. "I was starting to get bored, then the shorter woman, her name is Liz, and she is the older one. She started talking about a bedtime story they used to hear when they were children."

Once upon a time there were two sisters…" Berth began with an ominous voice. She lurked around the shadows of the room, the candles casting her shadows on the walls. "With the same lives, but a different world. The first one just wanted a simple life and a small happy family; the second sister wanted wealth, extravagance, and a prince." Berth paused and crossed her hand behind her back. By this time, Micah was seated in the bed; she watched as her sister patrolled around the room, like a sneaky cat. "Are you now going to tell me a story about us? Micah asked, but Berth sidestepped her question and continued.

As he returned to work, I brought him a glass of water, when he just happened to reach out. We touched each other, but he withdrew his hand first and pretended like nothing happened. "Your sister won't survive." There was no doubt about it—anyone who could be objective would be able to see that there was no hope for my sister. Even with that mysterious spell that kept her alive despite losing almost all of her blood, it was just pointless. Two weeks later, the cops found her dried-up corpse in the middle of the street, every last drop of fluid drained out of her body.

As he eats dinner cooked by his mother, he is so hard. So ready. It's all he can think about as he eats his peas and chicken with gravy. His stomach is churning as he cleans his plate. His sister is looking at a flyer for a group of girls who do volunteer work. They called themselves the Sisters of Mercy. Not nuns, just some good girls wanting to help out. They were said to bring a smile of relief to everyone they visited, but that's a story for another day.