Vale : Happy Birthday

This series started from a prompt in the Forum by ScrappyPaperDoodler: “As Many Tropes as Possible (A Tribute to Literotica and Smut in General):… a guy… who’s hung like a horse and inherits a billion dollars from a father he never knew he had. He falls in love with his sister… after somehow winning… a game of poker… here’s the twist: the sister is an alien-vampire and all the friends are cyborgs (see ‘fem-bots’)… his high school bully ends up banging the hero’s mom… we all know revenge is a dish best served anally… the use of a time-machine…”

Me being me, I took the absurd as a challenge, and with a lot of help and ideas from Scrappy I’ve written an amusing tale of wishes and wanton lust.

Content Warning: Incest, Dubious Consent; all characters are at least 18 years old.

 

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I was drunk, and on more than vodka. I was in love with my phenomenal cock that was not only huge but also ever ready for action, and delivered champagne finishes of creamy cum again and again. That alone made me feel like a god. I had used it long and well with my mother the night before, and now, watched by multiple strangers, my sexy twin half-sisters had given me a heavenly handjob, and Polly had ridden me till I came deep in her hot, human pussy.

I was having so much sex, and planned never to stop. And suddenly I was rich too! So rich I had no idea – in theory, anyway. My bank balance was unchanged and close to zero. “When do I get it?” I demanded.

“Soon,” Vale assured me. “Soon. The firm will handle the details, and the twins have gone ahead to make the mansion ready for us. Besides, you have two weeks of school left to do” – my heart sank at the prospect of more school, but soared again as she continued – “and Carl’s mother’s ass won’t fuck itself.”

In the excitement of the past day I’d forgotten that part of my wish. Carl had fucked my mum in front of me, and I was eager to return the favour. Vale was right. I couldn’t leave my old life behind until I had had my vengeance, and that wouldn’t be complete until my cum was flowing from Carl’s mother’s gaping ass.

I was rich, cocksure and full of lust – and more than a little drunk. “I’m driving,” I said, snatching the keys off Vale and easing into the driver’s seat. I’d received my license the year before, but I’d never driven something as sexy and beautiful as a Porsche. I nearly came in my pants just by starting the engine and feeling its purr.

My equally sexy and beautiful sister slipped into the passenger seat. “Is there anything else I can do to make this day perfect for you?” she asked.

The words were seductive and I chose to ignore the half-seen flash of irritation in her dark, intense eyes. More than my mother, more than the twins, more even than Carl’s mother and all the fembots in the world, Vale was the one I wanted. I shuffled in my seat and adjusted my Armani trousers, removing my suit jacket while I was at it, until my aching cock was free, jutting up hard and horny and wet with precum. “Blow me,” I said, “while I drive.”

I shot off with a roar of the engine and a rapid (if embarrassingly clumsy) changing of gears, following the signs for the country and the quiet country roads – and as I exulted in the power and perfection of the Porsche’s drive, I felt the cool, divine touch of Vale’s alien lips on my throbbing stick.

 

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Three words echoed in Tiffany Thomas’s head.

Worst. Night. Ever.

She’d been looking forward to this all day – all week, even. It was their one year anniversary, proof that there was more to their relationship than groping each other at parties (most of the groping being done by Carl, not that Tiffany minded particularly). Sure he could be an asshole at times, but he had always been kind to her. And the sex was good, although doing it in the back seat of his car was a nuisance; she always ended up banging her head against the roof, or sometimes the door handle. It only annoyed her that he kept trying to persuade her to do it without a condom, complaining that it would be better for him that way, ignoring the fact that she was only eighteen years old and also the captain of the cheerleading squad. The last thing she needed in her life was a baby.

She’d spent hours agonising over what to wear. Antonio’s wasn’t the poshest restaurant in town, but it was popular with all sorts of people. It paid to look good, and also she had hoped to get some hot selfies with Carl to share to her Insta. In the end, she’d opted for a tight, black dress, and styled her long, red hair into silky waves. They’d arranged to arrive separately, but she was still frustrated not to find him there waiting for her as she stepped out of the taxi. Torn briefly between waiting on the street outside and waiting inside, the latter proved more attractive. They had a table booked, after all.

She ordered a margarita to soothe her nerves as she checked her messages and social. There was nothing recent from Carl… but he was tagged into a video that was rapidly going viral. At first she dismissed it as low-budget MILF porn, but as she peered at the young man thrusting away vigorously at the woman bent over a table, she became increasingly convinced that it was Carl.

“What the absolute fuck!” she hissed. Beyond the painful betrayal of seeing him fucking another woman, there was the utter humiliation that everyone else already knew this, and she was only just discovering it while waiting for him in a fancy restaurant on their anniversary. “Fuck!”

“If you had three wishes…”

Tiffany looked up, startled. There was a waitress looking at her, no doubt impatient to take an order or free up the table. It was a different girl from before. This one had a gothic vibe, what with her near-black hair and pale skin. “I wish my boyfriend’s cock would shrivel up and disappear,” Tiffany said bitterly, but too quietly to be heard. Louder, she added, “I think I’ll just go.”

“I think you should stay,” the waitress said. “I promise you won’t regret it.” Her dark eyes were as calm and deep as the ocean and seemed to soak up the rage in Tiffany’s chest. “Would you like a complimentary drink? I recommend the Prosecco. We have a delightful rosé.”

Tiffany closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and released it, letting go of the anger and disappointment as much as she could. After all, she had nowhere else to be right then, and if the restaurant was going to offer free drinks without harassment, she could survive being alone at the table for a while. And maybe, just maybe, the waitress was actually hitting on her?

She opened her eyes and smiled. “I’d like that.”

 

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Surely nothing can match the euphoria of impending orgasm while racing at 100 mph down a long, straight country road in glorious sunshine. Surely nothing can match the disappointment of that being interrupted by the sighting of a cop shooting past in the opposite direction on her motorbike – and of that bike then turning to follow you with its red-blue lights flashing officiously.

Scowling at this twist of fate, and abruptly very aware of how fast I had been going, how much alcohol I probably still had in my system, and the fact that Vale was still kissing and licking my shaft, quite oblivious to our predicament, I pulled over to the side of the road.

Vale sat up with a smug, unconcerned expression as I stopped finally, and my efforts to conceal my hard, throbbing cock proved futile. I was just too big and too aroused and ultimately still far too visible as the cop dismounted from her bike in front of us and walked back to speak to me.

She was wearing leather trousers and a hi vis jacket, wisps of long, brown hair escaping her white helmet. “Do you know what speed you were doing, sir?”

I looked round at Vale to plead for help, but she was nonchalantly reapplying her lipstick. “Uh,” I said to the cop. “Sixty?”

She simply shook her head and made another note in her book. “Do you understand that it is unsafe to receive oral sex while driving?”

I looked down at the offending member. It was still traitorously hard, and I could feel the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks as I looked back at the policewoman. “I’m sorry,” I said as contritely as I could manage. “I won’t do it again.”

“License, please?”

I didn’t have it, and I didn’t have a good feeling about where this was going. “Step out of the car, please, sir.”

Reluctantly, I did so. “Vale!” I hissed as my wrists were handcuffed behind me and my rights were read. “Do something!”

“Like what?” she asked, acting all innocent.

“I don’t know! Bite her, or something.”

Vale frowned. “She’s just doing her job.”

“Vale! Please!”

“I’m your sister, not your get out of jail free card,” she said. But with a sigh, she turned to the cop and said, “Officer, my client is clearly guilty, but it would save us all a lot of time and paperwork if you could skip straight to a suitable punishment.”

 

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There was something almost decadent about sitting alone in a restaurant sipping sparkling wine, especially where there was most of the bottle still to get through. Getting spectacularly drunk would certainly be one way to celebrate the absolute clusterfuck of this anniversary dinner. Tiffany had already posted one selfie of herself with the text, “Young, free and sparkling again!!!” and in all modesty she looked pretty damn hot. Fuck that asshole Carl.

Her attention was drawn abruptly to the sight of a young man entering the restaurant. There was something familiar about him but she couldn’t place him immediately. His white shirt and dark suit trousers looked new and high quality, the shoes too, but the trousers were creased and stained, and the white shirt was only half tucked in. His hands were behind his back, and he was looking for someone – not her, but his eyes widened as he saw her, recognised her, and he looked round in a sudden panic.

It was that reflexive action that identified him for Tiffany. It was John, one of the nerds that Carl was always picking on. The irony of him worrying about Carl being here, when this was the last place Carl would come tonight. A waitress – the goth girl who had persuaded her to stay earlier – guided John to Tiffany’s table, much to Tiffany’s own irritation (that she made no attempt to hide), and to John’s very apparent confusion.

As John sat in the seat opposite her, he winced in sudden pain and squirmed awkwardly. His hands were still behind his back, and now that he was closer she could see pink lipstick on his collar, and buttons missing from his shirt.

“Um, hi,” he said uncertainly.

On any other day…

But Tiffany was intrigued, despite herself. “What’s your story?” she asked.

 

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When not pursuing a life of criminal enforcement with 77 horsepower between her legs, Sam was an avid reader and writer of erotic fiction. Following the maxim of write what you know, Sam’s own stories tended to focus on motorbike gangs and bike cops and leather-clad sluts and bimbo girlfriends.

The favourite of all her stories, the one she returned to often and, indeed, had been reading just the night before, was, ‘A Suitable Punishment’. The heroine of this work of fantasy was not only a cop like her real self, but also a curvy futa with a love of ass-fucking the scum she arrested.

Much like this asshole she was currently arresting. She had to admit his cock was an impressive one, and under different circumstances she might have been persuaded to see how well it performed, but he was still an asshole, and judging by the car and the suit he was a rich asshole too.

The girl, though… Sam couldn’t figure her out. Was she his girlfriend? His sister? His lawyer? Her eyes were deep and dark and seemed to offer Sam something quite impossible. “A suitable punishment?” Sam queried.

“Chance of a lifetime, Sam. Yes or no?”

It was completely absurd, and yet how could she resist the chance to live out her hottest fantasy? “Okay,” she said, her voice a broken whisper. “Yes.”

 

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The waitress returned with a champagne flute and carefully poured some of Tiffany’s complimentary sparking rosé into it – adding, with a slight flourish, a plastic straw. “Are you ready to order yet?”

John gave her such a black glare that Tiffany snorted with laughter, which she quickly suppressed. The waitress herself seemed unconcerned. “I’ll give you two a few minutes,” she said, and wandered off.

Sighing, John took a sip of wine through the straw. “I need a handcuff key,” he said, with an air of defeat.

Tiffany raised an amused eyebrow. “How fortunate, then, that I have one.” She opened her silver locket to show him the key inside.

 

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They say no woman is happy with her body. Sam found that hard to believe, but in her case it was certainly true. On the up side, no one had ever looked at her and reduced her to a pair of tits. The downside, however, is that she really wouldn’t have minded. Too often she felt like the invisible girl while men were drawn like moths to the flames of other women’s breasts. Her own were so small it was hard to find a bra to match, and little point to wearing a bra anyway.

She had been saving up for breast enlargement, but her anxiety over what her colleagues and bosses would make of her ‘boob job’ kept her from taking the plunge. Instead she filled her fantasies with huge breasted bimbos and voluptuous heroines, and her go-to porn was always women pressing their large breasts about an eager cock.

Thus her cry of delight as she unzipped her hi vis jacket and practically tore open her shirt to see her breasts inflate before her eyes. Even if they had settled at a C cup she would have been delighted, but their growth continued to gorgeousness. Not quite so big that they would have caused real problems for her, but big enough for her to hold one in each hand and feel their substantial weight. They felt natural, and looked natural, and Sam wished she were at home so that she could see herself in the mirror.

The asshole she had been in the process of arresting was staring at her tits as if mesmerised by their beauty. His huge cock, amazingly, was still hard, and Sam knew exactly what she wanted him to do with it. “Come with me,” she said, dragging him off the road and behind a tree for concealment. She knelt before him and pressed her fantastic new breasts about that impressive shaft and moaned with helpless lust. “Fuck my tits,” she pleaded. “I want to feel you come between them.”

“Hey, Sam,” the girl called, and Sam peered round to look for her. The bitch was on Sam’s bike, and wearing her helmet too. “You’ll find me at Antonio’s.”

Sam hurriedly checked her pocket for her keys, but it was too late. They were gone, and moments later the girl was gone too, the roar of the BMW engine fading into the distance.

 

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John’s eyes lit up. “Can I have it?” he asked.

Tiffany snapped her locket shut. The waitress had promised she wouldn’t regret staying, and Tiffany had to admit she was starting to enjoy the evening after all. “First tell me why you’re wearing handcuffs.”

John gave a sigh of surrender. “Fine. But you won’t believe me.”

No, probably not, Tiffany thought. “Convince me,” she insisted.

“Fine,” he said. “I was arrested.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You’re on the run from the law? Maybe I should phone the police and tell them you’re here.”

This threat clearly didn’t worry him, because of course he wasn’t on the run from the law. That was just absurd. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “She started to arrest me, then let me go, but didn’t have the key for the cuffs.”

However unlikely that was, at least it made more sense than his being arrested. Tiffany decided to play along for the moment. “Why were you arrested?”

“Speeding,” he said quietly and with such a suddenly guilty expression she knew instinctively that he was telling the truth – but not the whole truth.

“No, John,” she said. “If you want me to believe you, tell the whole story. Why were you arrested?”

“I was driving a Porsche convertible with the top down, over the speed limit, while having my dick sucked. And if she’d breathalysed me, I’d have been done for that too.”

If John had been the overentitled son of some rich financier, Tiffany might have believed all that. It was too obviously fake, but she was curious about one part. “Who would suck your dick?” she demanded.

He did that quiet, guilty thing again. “My sister,” he said.

“Right,” she said, hiding her doubts beneath a veil of sarcasm. “So then, what, a whole car chase?”

“Well, no, there was just the one cop, on her motorbike, flashing her lights. I pulled over, but wasn’t able to, ah, tidy myself away. It didn’t help that she was gorgeous, and so sexy with the helmet, the boots, the tight, leather pants…”

“Huge tits?”

“Absolutely. And she kept staring at my dick.”

Tiffany snorted. “Why? Because she’d never seen such a small one before?”

John laughed. “I’m hung like a horse, and it’s impossible to hide it when it’s hard.”

“And she was so overcome with lust she had to have you there and then?”

“Uh huh,” he said, a big, cheeky grin plastered over his face.

“You’ve watched too many porn films.”

John smirked. “I seem to be living in one now.”

“So you fucked the cop – where? In the car – the convertible?”

“Behind a tree. She wrapped her tits about my cock and I came all over them.”

Tiffany eyed him sceptically.

 

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I could hardly believe my luck. Not only had my imminent arrest developed into yet another fantasy sex scenario, but I got to see her breasts inflate magically from nothing to Wow! In the space of minutes I’d gone from terrified for my future to fucking a perfect pair of tits. And the cop – Sam – was loving it as much as I did.

This was one thing I hadn’t got around to doing with my mother the night before, but I had certainly planned to. Sam’s breasts were bigger than my mum’s, though, and wrapped snugly about my thick cock. I loved watching the bulbous head emerge from the tight channel between those gorgeous mounds, my copious precum making the passage nice and smooth, and I loved watching it retreat out of view in preparation for another vigorous thrust.

I could hardly wait to get her black, leather trousers off. I would take her savagely from behind, doggy style, filling her cunt with a fresh load of cum, and then I would make her lick me clean after, letting her taste her own cum blended with mine. Maybe I would come all over her tits again and have her fasten her shirt over the creamy mess I made.

Thinking of all this, I climaxed between her breasts, my cum bursting out against her neck and chin, dripping down onto her breasts. Sam moaned as if she were coming too as she smeared my cum all over breasts and massaged it into her thick, swollen nipples. It wasn’t all that long since I had filled Polly’s sweet cunt, but spurt after creamy spurt of cum spilled across Sam’s beautiful breasts as I convulsed blissfully.

“Get these cuffs off,” I demanded, tired of the restraint and eager to use my hands.

But Sam gave an amused laugh. “Your sister has the key.” Standing up to face me, she added, “Besides, I prefer you this way.”

She unfastened her trousers and pushed them down along with her underwear, and I found myself staring unexpectedly at an erect cock. It was nothing like mine, of course, but it was long and thick nonetheless, and seeing it pointed at me made me very nervous. Sam looked up at the sky and gave a cry of joy.

Grinning at me, she said, “You’ve had your fun. Time for your punishment.” Her hands untied my belt and pushed my trousers down about my ankles. “I can tell you want it,” she teased, stroking my cock that showed no inclination to soften yet.