“Thank you.” Emma panted as she said it, her chest heaving.
Emma’s left hand shot forward and grabbed the short hairs at the back of Aaron’s head. Aaron did not move. With her right hand, Emma scooped up another spoonful of bisque from the pot. She brought it slowly toward her face, never taking her eyes off Aaron’s.
Then she poured half a spoonful of the steaming bisque in the spoon onto her right breast. She whimpered when it streamed over her pink nipple.
Aaron needed no further prompting. He pushed his head forward and closed his mouth over his sister’s right tit. He sucked up the bisque. Then he licked and cleaned up the residue that remained on her breast. Emma moaned while his mouth was on her.
Aaron felt both Emma’s hands at the back of his head, pulling on his hair and holding his face fast against her chest.
“Don’t stop, Aaron,” she said.
Aaron pulled his mouth away from her sticky breast. “You don’t stop, either, Emma.” His mouth went back to her, his tongue lapping over her nipple, her areola, and the lambent skin of her breast. His hand pushed the breast up, so he could run his tongue along the underside of it. When his mouth reached her nipple again he bit down on it, gently, but with just enough force to make her whimper. After biting her tit his mouth watered over it and his tongue pushed it back and forth.
When he was done feasting on her breast he pulled back, but only for a moment. He saw the look in her eye, and she saw the look in his. They pulled their faces toward one another and kissed, open mouthed, tongues out and searching one another, arms around each other, grasping and pulling.
Aaron felt a hand on his crotch, searching and then squeezing. The hardness straining against his pants was uncomfortable. But Emma was there to relieve his discomfort, fumbling with his belt until he felt it loosened, and then frantically unbuttoning and unzipping him. Emma succeeded, but then she shifted her attention. Her hands went to his shirt, pulling it up from the bottom. Aaron raised his arms and Emma pulled it over them and off him. They were both topless.
Emma’s eyes twinkled, and Aaron saw her grab the spoon and dip it into the bisque. She moved it toward him, the stainless-steel sparkling under the kitchen light. With her free hand, Emma pushed against Aaron’s bare chest. He gave way, pushing back against the chair.
Emma poured the bisque over Aaron’s chest. He cried out at the touch of the neat-scalding liquid on his skin.
Emma came to his rescue. She dropped the long spoon on the floor and pressed her mouth over her brother’s bare chest. Her tongue lapped up the bisque everywhere it found it: on Aaron’s nipples, on his lean and firm pectoral muscles, on his abdomen. Emma’s tongue scoured Aaron’s body in rapid, eager slurps. Soon the bisque was gone, but his chest was sticky with the residue of the bisque and his sister’s saliva.
Emma wasn’t done. Her hands fumbled over his pants, loosening the button and pulling the zipper down. Her hands found the belt loops of his pants; she pulled them down his thighs. He resisted at first, but then he lifted his butt off the floor and let his sister have her way. In a flash Aaron lay on the floor of his sister’s kitchen, stripped down to black boxer briefs.